


Gate Keeper

by MoonlitPaladin (MoonlitStardust)



Series: Dynast Legacy [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy/Fae, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Bodily Harm, Celtic Mythology/Folklore, Creative Twists/Changes to known folklore, Fluff and Smut, Gore, M/M, Referenced Alfor x Coran, Slow Burn, Smut, Torture, dark themes, klance, pallura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-09-29 22:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 133,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10145963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlitStardust/pseuds/MoonlitPaladin
Summary: Lance is an author, known for his fantasies driven by dynamic and imaginative heroes, and yet no matter how much popularity and success he gains, it's not enough. He doesn't feel like he belongs anywhere and he pours himself into his work, pausing only when he gets a strange postcard in the mail with no return address and a portrait of Scotland."Light filters o’er the pass as the Keeper returns."On an adventure the likes of which only he could have written, Lance learns the true meaning of family and that there's a thin line between fantasy and reality.





	1. Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies!
> 
> This is my first step into the VLD fandom so, please, be gentle with me! I love Klance so very much and I hope that I can do them justice! Please let me know what you thought! (Also [HERE](https://open.spotify.com/user/moonlitstardust/playlist/39ACdsiaaUABC76bUUBu80) is my playlist for this fic.)
> 
> Much love!  
> 
> 
> #  ☽ MP ☾ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The first was done by Ani and the second was Shia)
> 
> The lovely artwork was done by the insanely talented and positively wonderful [Ani!](http://ManiacAni.tumblr.com/) & [Shia!](https://clavellesart.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Please go check out their work and shower them in the love and attention that such wonderful hard work deserves!! I love them so much I swear.
> 
> # ☽ MP ☾

 

 

 

* * *

 

_-And so Aesir raised the lip of his helm, gilded irises scanning the carnage that surrounded him as his chest heaved with heavy breaths. The watered field of Milandr lay quiet, her reddened grasses a stark contrast against the endless expanse of a blue, cloudless, sky. The still sea of bodies made for a gruesome image and victory was a word that rang hollow when so much death encompassed him-_

 

**_Brrrrrring._ **

 

Lance’s fingers stilled on the keys as the sound of his doorbell cut through the scene playing out behind his weary eyes.

 

**_Brrrrrring._ **

 

His character’s image faded from him as the doorbell rang again, thoroughly destroying the vision he’d been cultivating for the past six hours. With a heavy sigh, he pushed his chair back from his desk and got to his feet. A painful throb echoed around his lower back as he straightened, hours of sitting in the uncomfortable computer chair coming back to bite him in the ass as he made his way through the den and into the living room to get the door.

 

**_Brrrrrring._ **

 

“Keep your pants on,” he grumbled as he shuffled over, grabbing at the doorknob to wrench the door open.

 

Another sigh blew past his lips as he squinted against the intrusive rays of a burning Miami sun and the brilliance of his best friend’s grin. Hunk Garrett, childhood friend and often unwilling participant in Lance’s grade school shenanigans, was always a welcome sight.

 

“Yo, Hunk.”

 

“Hey, Lance-“

 

Hunk narrowed his eyes as he combed over his appearance.

 

“-you look like crap, man.”

 

“Nice to see you too, buddy; come in,” he rolled his eyes as he stood out of the way to let him inside before shutting the door behind him.

 

“Did you just get off work?”

 

“Gee, what gave it away?”

 

Hunk grinned as Lance rolled his eyes yet again. The blue jumpsuit he wore had been lowered so that he could tie the arms around his waist, baring his dark arms in a white tank top that he always wore beneath his NASA gear.

 

“How goes the Mars designs?”

 

Lance took a spot on the end of his couch while his friend flopped down on the other end with a happy sigh, rolling his shoulders as he leaned into the cool leather.

 

“We put them on pause while we beef up the space station. The Mars designs won’t be going forward until we can make sure the habitability of the station are high enough so that we can decrease dependence on Earth during the mission.”

 

“Sounds like you have some off-time then.”

 

“Pretty much but, hey, at least it’s off-time with pay.”

 

“Can’t hate that. So, what brings you by?”

 

There was a momentary silence as his companion let his eyes roam the coffee table in front of them, scanning the various open books marked with copious amounts of illegible sticky notes sticking out from betwixt their pages like some strange reference-book hedgehog. Hunk eventually let his gaze travel back to him.

 

“You’re kidding, right? I came to check up on you because you missed movie night. Twice.”

 

Blowing out a breath, Lance groaned, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the cough.

 

“Sorry, I’ve been caught up lately…”

 

There was another brief bout of silence.

 

“When did you hear from them?”

 

Lance lifted his head and opened his eyes.

 

“What makes you think I heard from them?”

 

It was Hunk’s turn to roll his eyes.

 

“Lance, seriously dude, who do you think you’re talking to? Look at yourself; your hair’s so crazy it looks like you stuck your tongue in a power outlet, you’re rocking a week’s worth of stubble, and the bags under your eyes are so dark I almost mistook you for a raccoon-“

 

He interlaced his fingers and turned his body towards him, resting his forearms on his thighs and softening his voice.

 

“-You never let yourself go like this unless you’re really stressed out, and there’s only one reason that you’d be this stressed out.”

 

Forcing out a chuckle, Lance shook his head.

 

“What makes you think that it’s not work? This novel has been killing me lately and I’ve been putting all of my effort into making sure it gets into my editor’s hands on time-“

 

“Lance.”

 

He paused, knowing his excuse was flimsy at best.

 

“I know you better than anybody, dude. You love writing and I’ve never seen it put you out the way you look right now.”

 

Hunk’s voice hardened.

 

“When did you hear from them?”

 

Hissing a breath through his teeth, Lance closed his eyes again and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

 

“A few days ago.”

 

“What did they want?”

 

“Same old, same old. It’s the quarterly family dinner.”

 

He tried not to put the bitterness he felt into the words as they left his mouth.

 

“No wonder you look like crap.”

 

“Seriously, dude, stop busting my balls… That’s what _they’re_ for.”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Hunk chuckled, “so, is it safe to assume that you’ve been overworking yourself since hearing from them?”

 

“This is me we’re talking about here, Hunk; I’m just naturally a hard worker.”

 

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely messed up. Even your normal arrogance is falling flat.”

 

“It’s only arrogance if you don’t have the skill to back it up.”

 

“There’s the Lance I know.”

 

Lance snickered, “I appreciate you coming to check on me, Hunk, but I’m fine and, if you don’t mind, I really need to get this last chapter finished. I’ve been busting my ass on this thing and I’m almost done.”

 

Hunk stood from his seat then and glanced at the watch on his left wrist.

 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right; it is time that we got going.”

 

It took Lance longer than it should have to zero in on the word ‘we.’

 

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘ _we_?’”

 

His friend broke out another wide grin as he nodded enthusiastically, the ends of the orange ribbon he used to push back his mop of deep chestnut hair bouncing over his shoulders with the movements.

 

“I assumed that you’d heard from them already and I figured you’d look like, well,” he waved a hand at him, “ _this_ , so I set up an appointment at that spa you took me to in West Palm for my birthday last year.”

 

“Dude, you hate getting pampered.”

 

“Yeah, but _you_ eat it up with a spoon so we’re going. Go put on some clothes that don’t look like they belong to an old lady and then fix your hair, you look stupid. I’ll be outside,” he winked, smacking him on the shoulder with a large hand before crossing through the room and letting himself out.

 

Lance stayed seated for a moment, blinking a few times as he tried to process what had just happened. If he were being honest, he had been pushing himself too hard in the past week and his body was sluggish and achy in response. He was one lucky bastard to have a friend who was so in tune with his ups and downs and he was very thankful for it.

 

“Old lady,” he repeated with a shake of his head as he pushed himself off the couch, smoothing a hand over his baby-blue house coat.

 

Knowing that Hunk would never give up once he’d set his mind to something, Lance made his way slowly to his bedroom to change. The moment that he had closed the door behind him, he was met by his reflection in the mirror on the wall just behind the door.

 

“Shit,” he muttered as he looked over the picture that he made, “he was right.”

 

Looking past the ridiculous housecoat covering the black silk pajama set that he barely remembered changing into a few days before, he was still a mess. His tawny hair was mussed in a way that screamed more ‘hurricane’ and less ‘bedhead’, his jawline was covered in several day’s worth of beard, there were several patches of dry skin around his nose, and his tired blue eyes looked like they were carrying handbags. If he hadn’t been so busy sinking himself into his work, the moment he’d seen his reflection he might have screamed.

 

 

 

 

Hunk was right; he could use this. He took the time to tame his hair and change into a pair of loose light-wash blue jeans that he rolled up his calves and topped with tucked in, beige linen, long sleeve button up. After pushing the sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoning the first few buttons, he gave himself a once over. When he was satisfied, he wedged his feet into a pair of brown loafers, tucked a pair of aviators into the V of his button up, and joined Hunk where was waiting outside.

 

“That’s _much_ better,” Hunk appraised as he locked the door, “you don't look like you’re a hobo living under an overpass anymore.”

 

“You’re the last person who gets to give me fashion advice, big guy. With that tank top on, your top half looks like a toasted marshmallow.”

 

“I’m just saying that it’s nice to have you looking like _you_ , idiot,” his companion chuckled as they walked down to the condo’s parking lot.

 

Lance was already feeling a little more like himself as he slid into the passenger side of Hunk’s jeep, the fresh air pulling some of the tension from his limbs. It felt like he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. As they drove through the packed streets of Miami, the smells of food trucks filtered in through their rolled down windows and the sounds of street performers drowned out their music. A smile cracked his face as the feel of the wind blowing through his hair set him at ease.

 

He loved this city, he loved the bustling and the movement, the cultural mixes and the nightlife. Miami was a city of movers, a city of adventurers and opportunists. Refugees, immigrants, and all manner of people looking for new dreams filled the city and spread their vision. There was nowhere else like it and this was his home. He settled comfortably into the seat as they drove to West Palm Beach.

 

Nothing was as relaxing as enjoying an occasional pampering and Lance sighed happily the moment that he was leaned back in a chair with a deliciously scented mask being applied to his face while a beautiful blonde bathed his feet in preparation of his pedicure. The dimmed lighting set a soothing tone as the warm beams shifted through the damask cutouts in the shades and set the patterns dancing on the stucco walls around them.

 

“I’ve never seen anyone look so happy,” Hunk muttered from his left as he shifted in the small reclining chair, huffing as one of the attendants used a band to push his hair further back so that they could begin his own mask, “you’d think you won the lottery.”

 

“My best friend comes over to kidnap me away to the spa on the day of what I’m sure will be just another _excellent_ experience with my family? AND I didn’t have to pay for it? I _did_ win the lottery.”

 

“Wow, you do sound like a good friend,” the woman brushing the clay mask over Hunk’s cheek said quietly, flashing him a pearly smile.

 

“Well I, uh- what can I say?”

 

Stifling a snicker, Lance added, “oh yeah, he’s a great guy and he works with NASA, how cool is that?”

 

Winking over at his friend, Lance closed his eyes and listened to Hunk sputter for a few minutes while the brunette asked him about his work. _Wingman Lance strikes again_ , he thought to himself as he focused on the cool brushstrokes on his forehead. At some point, amidst the feel of practiced hands on his feet and scalp, he fell asleep. It felt like a split second of time had passed when he was being shaken awake by Hunk’s, an amused grin on his face when Lance squinted up at him.

 

“You must be worse off than I thought. Have you been sleeping at all?”

 

“Enough,” he muttered, rolling his shoulder as his hand fell away, “but it’s been a while since I was so comfortable. How long was I out?”

 

“Like forty-five minutes or something. Well, come on. We have a massage to get to, unless you’d like to continue your nap.”

 

“Ha-ha.”

 

His nap nearly did continue when he found himself on a massage table on a balcony overlooking the Atlantic, the gentle sounds of waves and gulls nearly lulling him right back to sleep. Instead, he spent the time thinking over the most recent developments in his novel and trying to plan an end. He was suspended in a trance-like state, overwhelmed by relaxation and lost in thought, for nearly two hours. It was a gift, truly, to be so intensely focused on the care he was receiving and his narrative rather than on the spiked ball of anxiety that had been slowly forming in his gut, ripping into his flesh every time he thought about spending time with his family.

 

The internal mace began rebuilding itself, however, at the end of the massage. He donned his clothing and met Hunk in the lobby after thanking the staff, forcing a smile that Hunk immediately noticed for what it was; false.

 

“I was hoping it would take your mind off of it but it looks like it was only a temporary fix.”

 

“I appreciate the thought, man, but you’ve got to remember that I still have to see them in an hour or so. Honestly, I’d rather stick my junk in the everglades and see what it catches.”

 

Hunk wrinkled his nose at that mental image as they climbed back into his jeep.

 

“Why do you even bother going? You know what’s going to happen. You don’t need to impress them and you have a lot to be proud of. They’re just going to tear you down like they always do and make you feel like a snail. You’re a good guy, Lance, and you don’t deserve how they treat you.”

 

Lance wrestled with himself as he formulated an answer. Hunk was entirely right, they were going to tear into him and he was likely going to be left feeling like an insect; or a snail, as Hunk put it. He didn’t know how to explain to someone whose entire family was so unconditionally supportive and warm, he didn’t know how to say ‘I just need them to accept me’ and he wasn’t sure he could get the words out if he did.

 

“They’re my family, Hunk,” was all he could manage.

 

“Well, they suck,” Hunk muttered, fingers flexing on the steering wheel as he slid a look over at him, “just promise me something?”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t take whatever they say to heart, okay? And if stuff gets crazy, just leave. If you need a quick getaway you can always come over to my place and I’ll grill up some of my should-definitely-be-famous coconut salmon!”

 

“That sounds great, I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

His response seemed to satisfy Hunk and he was thankful for the silence as they trekked back towards home. He hoped, as he foolishly did with each trip home, that maybe this time would be different.

 

Lance arrived at his childhood home nearly a half hour early but he sat deathly still in the driver’s seat of his sedan in the driveway for ten minutes. The drive from Miami to Key Biscayne was short and yet it had simultaneously felt like it had taken a lifetime. He flipped down the visor and checked his reflection in the mirror for what had to have been the hundredth time, checking that his hair wasn’t too messy and that the spot on the underside of his jaw that he’d nicked whilst shaving looked alright. His gut felt like it was full of coked up rottweilers; butterflies were far too fair and soft for the feelings he had butting heads within him.

 

* * *

 

He had changed his clothes once more, opting for a thinner, white, button up and a pair of charcoal slacks, but the longer he sat outside the house the more he questioned himself. The home rose up to two stories, it’s sleek monochrome lines both modern and cold. Flat white with raised, black, accents, it stood as an impassive structure looking down upon those who passed. Did he really want to subject himself to this again? After a few minutes of psyching himself up, he finally forced himself out of the car. Maneuvering between the twin black cadillacs and his brother’s ridiculous two seated hybrid, Lance made his way slowly up the painstakingly symmetrical cobblestone path to knock on the front door.

 

He knocked twice before a thin woman with sharp, pinched, features opened the door. Her dark hair had been pinned back from her face in a regrettably tight bun that had him picturing a fox in a wind tunnel and Lance had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking. Her dark brown eyes canvassed his appearance, quickly sliding from his hair to his outfit and then back again.

 

“Hello, Lance.”

 

“Afternoon, Mom.”

 

She made a sound in the back of her throat, something like disapproval at the familiar word, before she slid back and pulled the door open wide enough to let him inside.

 

“You look terrible. Have you been sleeping?”

 

“Thank you for candy-coating it, mom, tell me what you really think.”

 

“Don’t get smart, Lance,” she reprimanded as she closed the door behind him, raising a perfectly penciled brow before breezing past him and leading the way through the hall, “and answer a question when it has been asked.”

 

The interior was an equally cool mixture of glass, white marble, and mahogany. It was upscale and beautiful, though you’d only fit in if you were a Grecian statue. Lance found it, as he always had, an unwelcoming place that always made it clear that you were merely a visitor.

 

“I’m not one of your students, mom; you can’t send me out of class for getting ‘smart.’”

 

“Maybe not, but I can send you home.”

 

He didn’t doubt for a moment that she would ask him to leave if he didn’t speak to her the way that she preferred.

 

“I’m sorry,” he forced himself to say, “and to answer your question, no, I haven’t been sleeping.”

 

“Hmm, maybe all of those silly books of yours are keeping your thoughts busy. Are you still writing?”

 

He’d never heard anyone say ‘writing’ like it was a plague before, but Helena Alvarez was a special case. Trying to ignore it, he focused on the fact that she acknowledged his career at all.

 

“Yes, I’m working on a new novel right now-”

 

“Oh! George, no!”

 

In a flash she was striding away from him to smack at the hand of his father as he pulled down her china from the cabinet.

 

“We’re using the other set tonight! Marisol is coming home from Juilliard; we have to have everything look nice!”

 

Shaking his head for thinking for a second she would care enough to listen to what he had to say, he edged around them to take a seat at the dining room table where his older brother was already seated. His long, black, hair had been tied into a ponytail at the back of his neck and been left to hang over his right shoulder. He wore his usual navy polo emblazoned with the ‘StE’ logo on his pocket. Like his sister Marisol, Oliver had dark eyes fringed with long, dark, lashes and a flawless golden bronze complexion. With his own lighter bronze skin tone and blue eyes, Lance had always stuck out amongst them.

 

“Hey, Oliver.”

 

“Lance,” he greeted with a polite smile as he took a seat, “how’s it going?”

 

“Not too bad. How are things with work?”

 

“Not too bad,” he parroted, “we’re making some real progress. I recently came up with an idea that we just finished implementing down at the conservatory-”

 

Lance listened politely as Oliver droned on about how amazing he was and how he was single handedly making a dent in the effort to save the Everglades. It was the same conversation that they had during each dinner and he was always patting himself on the back when their mother wasn’t doing it for him.

 

“-and you wouldn’t believe how harmful it is to the environment. What kind of mileage does your car get? Are you familiar with its level of emissions?”

 

Lance was saved from answering when a knock sounded on the door. Immediately, their mother was all smiles, practically prancing away from her husband to rush towards the hallway. He watched his father sigh and felt a flicker of kinship; he couldn’t imagine being married to that woman.

 

“Oh, Marisol! It’s so good to see you! Come in, dear- Lance! Come get your sister’s bags!”

 

As much as he loathed playing pack mule, he was thankful for the opportunity to get out of listening to Oliver rant about carbon footprints and turtle conservation.

 

“Hey there, Mari,” Lance smiled at his litter sister as he met her in the doorway, taking in her long, free flowing hair and the modest black dress, “it’s good to see you again.”

 

“It’s Marisol,” she corrected him with a frown that was so like their mother’s that he practically felt the frostbite, “I’m not a child, Lance, and I suggest you not treat me like one.”

 

He pursed his lips as he turned to watch their mother wrap an arm along her shoulders and send him a pointed glance before turning to herd her towards the dining room and leaving him to close the door with his foot and heft her bags to the foot of the staircase. He took a moment to stretch, wondering if it was cement blocks or bodies that she was hauling in the black duffle bags. He cringed as he turned, coming face to face with one of the paintings that his mother had situated through the house of Odysseus’ journey via Homer’s epic, ‘The Odyssey.”

 

“Ma’am,” he muttered with a snicker as he nodded towards the painting of a topless representation of Circe, the nymph.

 

He was seriously contemplating taking Hunk up on his offer as he entered the dining room again and took his seat at the table, watching their mother flitter around like a moth as she placed the china and brought out a series of steaming bowls heaped with what he prayed wasn’t her own cooking. Lance waited until everyone had finished heaping their plates before he helped himself.

 

He remained quiet as they talked, trying not to roll his eyes at the constant bragging and circle jerking that always managed to take center stage at their dinners. It was always Oliver talking about how useful he was to the environment, Helena fawning over Marisol, his father remaining quiet but for a few nods and affirmations, and Lance not being able to get a word in edgewise. It was like he was a pet, there to be seen but not heard. Dinner went on like that for some twenty minutes, conversation about their various accomplishments only pausing so that they could actually eat.

 

“How’s school, _Marisol_ ,” Lance asked, looking over to the head of the table where she sat to the left of his father.

 

Her lips quirked the smallest bit as a single brow raised.

 

“It’s called Juilliard, Lance, and it’s wonderful,” she answered, her attention turning towards him only momentarily before she was beaming at their mother, “and I have a large piece that I’ve recently finished working on. I’m planning to debut it to my instructor when I get back.”

 

“Sounds like it’s going well for you; I’m happy to hear that,” he responded.

 

“You should really try furthering your own education Lance,” Marisol responded, “maybe things would turn around for you.”

 

Pausing in the middle of chewing a piece of overcooked broccoli, Lance laid down his fork and swallowed. He was aware of all the eyes around the table focusing on him as a familiar tension wound its way through his shoulders. It was futile to beg himself not to react when he could already feel himself becoming defensive.

 

“What do you mean ‘things would turn around for me?’ Things are going just fine my way.”

 

Marisol chuckled a little before her expression sobered and she looked around the table for support.

 

“Well, I mean, you never even looked into colleges after high school. I assume you’re writing those books because you don't have anything else lined up…”

 

“I just thought you were too lazy to do something worthwhile,” Oliver added with a shrug.

 

“I write _those books_ because I enjoy writing and I’m good at it. I make a decent living and I like what I do. There’s nothing wrong with not going to school and,” Lance turned to look at his brother, “my writing is worthwhile; it gives people an escape when things get hard. Just because I don't have a hard-on over sea turtles doesn’t meant that what I’m doing isn’t worthwhile. I’m a bestselling author, hell, I just did an interview for local radio last week.”

 

“Don’t snipe at your siblings, Lance,” Helena broke in, reaching across the table to pat at Marisol’s hand before leveling a firm look in his direction, “Marisol and Oliver are right. You could be doing so much more than playing pretend. You should put your talents towards real careers instead of soaking up useless trivia all day long and helping dull the mental faculties of others.”

 

His patience for _that tone_ had run its course.

 

“You know,” Lance finally said, wiping his hands and crumpling up the napkin before tossing it on his plate and turning in his seat, “for someone who thinks so little of my occupation, you really don't have any room to talk. You teach classic literature; what do you think literature is, exactly?”

 

“Don’t you attempt to lecture me, brat,” Helena huffed, lifting her chin without even sparing him a glance, “my work is focused on important works of cultural significance. They’re classics for a reason, Lance, while your drivel is just silly little boy daydreams pandering to Neanderthals and layabouts that still live with their parents.”

 

“Silly little-”

 

Lance sat like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing a few times as he absorbed her words.

 

“Are you kidding me?! Cultural significance? Tell me about the cultural significance of Homer’s epics. Go ahead.”

 

“Any classic literature is a key to our history, smart mouth. It’s a living memory-”

 

“-of the nation? No, I asked you about the cultural significance of Homer’s epics; I didn’t ask you to plagiarize a lecture from Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn.”

 

“I don't have to listen to this idiocy in my own home,” she sputtered, vein in her neck prominent as her frown deepened.

 

“So you can’t tell me the significance of Homer and yet there is framed artwork behind me of a cyclops, with his dick out, chucking a rock at Odysseus’ boat. _Brilliant_.”

 

“How dare you reduce the work of Annibale Carracci to some childish, crude, depiction!”

 

“Play as indignant as you want, mom, but you’re the one that put a giant with an exposed penis in the dining room.”

 

“I’ll tell you all why he never uses that eidetic memory towards anything useful,” Helena stated, slamming her fork down on the table, “it’s because he’s still a child who doesn’t want to be an adult.”

 

“Helena-” His father tried to butt in but she immediately sent him a glare that made him wither.

 

“Don’t you encourage him,” she growled before turning her sharp eyes back towards Lance, “throw your tantrum all you like but you will not do it in my home. Get out.”

 

“Gladly.”

 

He quickly got to his feet and crossed the dining room, but his hand lingered on the archway and before he could leave, he found himself looking over his shoulder.

 

“I don't know why I come here and sit through this degradation. I think I just kept hoping that, somewhere, deep down in your self-centered hearts, you gave a shit. Don’t worry though, I think I’m over it.”

 

His fingers clenched around the molding and he stood there for another fraction of a second, some part of him hoping that someone, anyone, would tell him to stay.

 

No one did.

 

His lip trembled and he pulled it between his teeth as he forced himself to move through the house and out the door. He didn’t, couldn’t, stop. Fumbling in his pocket for his keys, he quickly fell into the driver’s seat and peeled out of the driveway. The road began blurring at some point, the hurt that he’d been trying to stomp down finding its way out. Lance could only think of one place to go.

  

He pulled into a parking spot at the edge of Crandon Park and wiped his eyes before he let himself out, slamming the door closed on his Kia so hard that the entire car rattled. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he began the walk along the beautifully lined walkways towards the beach. The towering palms cast their shadows over the path as he walked, pausing just before the wooden deck came into view that led out onto the sands. As a child, when he’d felt just as useless and worn down, he’d always made his way towards that beach. Something about the gentle waves and uncrowded shores soothed his weary soul.

 

Lance trekked through the sands as the evening sun continued its slow descent behind a menagerie of wispy pink and orange clouds, the sky painted like sorbet as he unceremoniously flopped onto the shore just beyond the reach of the tide. For a long while, Lance just watched as the water rolled in and receded, and he wondered absently how his recent character, Aesir, would have handled things. A snort tore past his lips as he thought of him ruining dinner by brandishing a sword.

 

“Silly boy,” he muttered to himself, repeating her words.

 

He let himself lay back against the shore, hands falling to his side. He turned his head to look at his right hand as it fisted in the sand, raising it to watch the grains sift through his open fingers.

 

“I've got to fit somewhere...”

           


	2. Keeper

Lance spent the next two days buried so deeply in his writing that he barely slept or ate. Time became an abstract concept and he only knew that it had passed when he would reach for his cup of coffee only to find it empty for the umpteenth time. After coming home, he had resolved to force himself to finish his novel, channeling his whirlwind of emotion into each word as his fingers danced across the keys. By the time he reached the last sentence, he felt completely drained.

He didn’t know what to do with himself as he leaned back in his chair, watching the cursor steadily blink beside the final period. ‘ _The Battle for Alfheim’_ was finally finished but after spending so much of his energy and will into wrapping up the narrative, he no longer had any for himself. If he hadn’t felt so raw, he might have been proud of himself.

 

His movements were sluggish as he pushed back from the desk and he wondered briefly if he could just kick the wheeled chair all the way into the bedroom to avoid the walk. Stretching, he grabbed his empty mug from beside his mouse pad and shuffled through into the kitchen to mumble a string of curses at the sight of the empty coffeepot. Just as he was about to put on a new pot, he was interrupted by a familiar series of raps on his front door. Lance’s fingers tightened around the handle of the pot, his knuckles blanching as he stared through the doorway of the kitchen towards the hall as the knocks began again.

 

“It’s open,” he found himself calling in response.

 

He didn’t know what to expect as the door slowly swung open, and he certainly didn’t know what he could possibly have to say to him after the other night. George Alvarez quietly shut the door behind him before he turned to see his son watching him closely from the kitchen. His father’s hands were in his pockets but Lance could see the telltale twitches in the fabric that told him he was fidgeting, and his heavily bagged eyes didn’t stay on his for more than a few seconds at a time. Lance wondered what kind of man he’d been before he’d married Helena; he wondered, in momentary amusement, if the salty streaks in his well-coiffed black hair and goatee would be lessened if he had found a nice woman to settle down with instead of a miserable sea witch.

 

“What do you want?”

 

Lance made no effort to hide the suspicion in his voice as he refilled the water in the coffee maker and set it on strong, crossing his arms over his chest and doing his best to look as impassive as he could manage in a pair of rose boxers covered with emoji-faced kittens and a white t-shirt. George took a deep breath and released it before he raised his chin a fraction to look his son in the eye.

 

“Listen, Lance, we need to talk about dinner.”

 

Narrowing his eyes, Lance padded barefoot through kitchen and gestured with a finger for his father to follow him to the living room. As much as he wanted to tell him to shove it and get lost, there was a part of him that had to hear what he had to say; part of him still _wanted_ them to want him. Boy, did he want to smother that part.

 

“Then talk,” he nodded towards the couch as he took a seat in the recliner just opposite him.

 

“What happened was unnecessary-”

 

“Which part,” he butted in as he leaned into the cool leather, “the part where they called me useless or the part where you didn’t say shit about it?”

 

“All of it was unnecessary, but you know better than to push your mother.”

 

“Aw, that’s precious. I think if she had picked up her fork and actually stabbed me with it, you still might have made it out to be my fault.”

 

“That’s not fair, Lance-”

 

His fingers curled tightly into the black leather arms of his chair and his jaw clenched.

 

“No, what’s not fair is that you continually allow them to belittle me without so much as a squeak of indignation or a word in my favor. If you’re going to sit here and tell me that I deserve what I got in that house, then you can just get the hell out. Just because I grew up in Florida doesn’t mean that I’m fond of scaly monsters the same way that you are. Oh, and speaking of _Helena_ , you can tell her that I don’t want to hear from her or the rest of her brood either.”

 

For the first time in years, he watched as George’s expression hardened and his lips flattened into a flat line.

 

“You will not speak of your mother that way in front of me again, do you understand me?”

 

Lance didn’t shrink from his words, opting instead to lean forward in his seat.

 

“She’s not my mother and we both know it.”

 

George didn’t even blink.

 

“She raised you as her own, in her own home, amongst her own family; she IS your mother.”

 

“No, she allowed me to live in her house like a freakin’ pet. She provided nothing but humiliation and she made damn sure that I knew from day one that I was an inconvenience to her and her _real_ family. You can try to convince yourself all you want, but you’ll never convince me any differently.”

 

“You have to understand, Lance, that when you came to us, the circumstances were… Unique. She had a hard time adjusting.”

 

Lance had known for a very long time that he was not a natural part of their family. Between the differences in their appearance and the fact that he had a completely different last name, it had always been obvious but, during all that time, his family had never once indulged him enough to answer any of the questions he had about his true family. He did his best to put his anger on the backburner, interest peaked at the first bit of information he’d ever had about his origins.

 

“I want details. You’ve been keeping my past from me and I want some answers; I deserve answers. Since you couldn’t show your spine around her, the least you can do is tell me.”

 

George let out a heavy sigh and clasped his hands together, laying his forearms on his knees.

 

“There are things that I can’t tell you, things that I don’t know, but what I can tell you is that we’re the only family that you have. Some of what I have to say... It sounds crazy. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

 

“I’ll judge it for myself. Start talking.”

 

Visibly uncomfortable, his father re-situated himself a few times before he finally began.

 

“Do you remember me telling you and your sister about when I was in Glasgow researching one of their archaeological digs for my first independent paper after I’d gotten my position at the University of Miami?”

 

Lance’s features shifted as he tried to come up with a nice way to say ‘what the hell are you talking about?’

 

“I remember a lot of talking about Scotland but I don't remember any of it.”

 

“Space cadet Lance not listening to his elders talking? Go figure,” George muttered, “anyway, I was in Scotland when I was contacted by a local member of the archaeology council. They had found several strange structures during a dig by a reservoir not too far from Edinburgh and asked me to consult.”

 

“Does this story have anything to do with me, or do I have to listen to you spend a half hour bragging about your credentials too?”

 

“Be patient,” his father instructed in his practiced professor voice, “I’m getting there. The locals were superstitious and didn’t want to be anywhere near our work, and even some of the professionals on the dig bowed out. It was the strangest thing. There were obelisks made of what looked like obsidian, marked with symbols that we’ve never seen before. They were in a circle, buried beneath a mound of dirt nearly 20 feet deep. The odd part, however, was at about twilight when the symbols on one of the obelisks started to glow. We assumed it was some sort of iridescent paint but it looked to be burned into the stone.”

 

“Okay, that’s spooky and all, but what does that have to do with anything?”

 

“Everyone on the site who participated in the dig started to have nightmares, some of them were so terrible that they frightened them to quit. It was something about that place, Lance; something about it was wrong. Helena called me the next day to tell me that she’d miscarried and she was in the University’s hospital back home here in Miami. It was late, I was the last person on the dig site, and I was in a hurry to get back to my wife. Before I got to my car, though, I saw a man run out of the woods across from the water and he came right for me; he carrying what looked like a newborn child. He thrust you into my arms and screamed at me…”

 

Lance felt the fine hairs along the base of his neck rise at the look on his face, the fear in his eyes as he wrung his hands. Goosebumps prickled at his skin as George clenched his hands.

 

“...He said that your parents had been killed and that someone was after you.”

 

“And you believed that?”

 

“Lance... Whoever that man was,..”

 

George laughed though the sound was flat and he separated his hands so that he could rake them through his hair. It was like he was trying to build up the confidence to say what was on his mind.

 

“I don’t think he was a man. His eyes, Lance, they were yellow and he was serious. He was frantic, covered in sweat, and he kept looking over his shoulder; of course I believed him.”

 

“Yellow eyes? I don’t suppose his skin had a purple tint?”

 

His father’s eyes shot to his own, faster than an archer’s arrow, and he couldn’t help but smile a little.

 

“I think the nightmares might have warped your memory a little, that or you’ve been reading some of my stories. Some old tales talk about mythical beings with changing appearances, sometimes having yellow eyes and a purple or blue pallor, mostly around Scandinavia and the Celtic areas. It was late and you were spooked.”

 

“I didn’t think you’d believe me, but it was worth a shot,” George shrugged, standing.

 

The way that his eyes still held a trace of discomfort, a shred of fear, left Lance feeling unnerved. George looked from side to side every so often throughout the telling, as though he were looking for the man to burst in at any moment. He truly believed in what he said, believed it was true, believed that he had been handed a child by a creature of another realm. Even for someone who spent most of their day drowning in fantasy, that was too much for Lance.

 

“Wait,” he said, raising a hand to stop him from moving to the door, “so what happened?”

 

George paused, turning back towards him.

 

“After he shoved you into my arms, he stayed to watch me go. When I was at the end of the road, he ran off towards the other wood line. I was going to take you to the authorities and tell them what had happened, but I was a foreigner in possession of a child of supposedly murdered parents and I couldn’t take the risk that I’d be detained while my wife was in the hospital. I spent an unholy amount of money on bribes to get you into the country and then made the decision with Helena to raise you as our own.”

 

The information he’d given him whirled around in his brain, raising more questions that were clamoring for answers.

 

“Where did my name come from?”

 

“You had been named when you were given to me. Inside your blanket was a handwritten account of your birth and another piece of paper with a single word in Gaelic and one of the symbols I remember from the obelisks.”

 

“Did… Did it say anything about my parents?”

 

George nodded, one corner of his mouth lifting in a sad smile.

 

“It has their names and the name they gave you. I can bring it to you.”

 

“Please,” Lance uttered softly, clearing his throat of the emotion suddenly clogging it.

 

He’d spent so much time wondering, so much time thinking that he’d never know anything about them and, even though it was just a small thing, it was still something and that warmed his heart.

 

“Do you think he had something to do with excavation? And what about the symbol and the word?”

 

“I honestly don’t know, and I don't really want to know. I still dream of the things I saw in my nightmares and I don't want to tempt fate. The word means ‘Keeper,’ but as for the symbol there’s not much that I can tell you except… Well, you’ll see when I bring it to you. I’ll go get that for you; consider it my apology.”

 

“Wait-”

 

George stopped just shy of the door, his arm outstretched, hand on the knob.

 

“Yes?”

 

“What did Helena say when you told her the story?”

 

The man turned his back to him and Lance noticed his hold on the brass tighten.

 

“She said that I was just making up excuses for bringing home an orphan to replace the child that we’d lost.”

 

“...Did that have anything to do with why you kept me?”

 

For a moment he thought he wouldn’t answer.

 

“Yes, it did.”

 

George didn’t wait for a response, immediately twisting the doorknob and letting himself out. Lance just stared after him for several long minutes, mulling his words around in his head before he rubbed a hand over his face and let his body relax against the recliner. Even though he’d known that he wasn’t their child, talking about his birthparents and the circumstances of his arrival into their household felt weird; it was like talking to a stranger.

 

“A _crazy_ stranger,” he muttered to himself, thinking of the way he’d spoken of the man who’d fled with him as a child and handed him over.

 

Could he truly believe that he’d been handed over by a mythical being? As much as he wanted to laugh, he couldn’t discount the very real glimmer of discomfort in his gaze or the feelings of uneasiness that it had inspired within himself.

 

“Now _I’m_ crazy. _Awesome_.”

 

Allowing himself a chuckle, he kicked out the leg-rest of his recliner and stretched out his legs. Maybe by the time he got back, he would be able to get some more from him.

  

* * *

 

 

It was nearly two in the morning when Lance woke. He blinked several times, trying to clear the fog from his vision, and it took him longer than it should have to notice that he’d fallen asleep in his chair waiting on George to return.

 

“Well, shit,” he mumbled groggily, yawning as he clumsily got to his feet.

 

He glanced up at the clock ticking away above the silent television.

 

“Thirteen hours in a recliner? New record.”

 

He’d been up for nearly forty-eight hours straight; he’d deserved a nice, long, rest. He was about to cross into the kitchen for a glass of water, and to pour out the neglected pot of coffee that he’d never even touched, when he noticed the pile of mail arranged in a haphazard pile just inside the hallway. _Mail must have come while I was out_ , he thought to himself as he made a detour to grab the meaty stack of envelopes before returning to his task. Lance poured out the coffee and got a glass of water before he began looking through the stack of letters on the counter.

 

Bill, bill, fan mail, bill, bill, GNC ad-

 

His hand stilled as he got near the bottom of the pile. Sitting his glass beside the sink, he picked up the postcard. Several old-world castles graced the front of the thick, glossy, cardstock alongside a glittering bridge. Just below the collage were the words, ‘Edinburgh, Scotland.’ Feeling the unease from that afternoon flicker back to life, he slowly turned the card around to read the single sentence penned neatly on the back.

 

**_Light filters o’er the pass as the Keeper returns._ **

 

Lance stared at the card, noting that there was no return address. There was nothing on the card to give him any hint of the identity of its sender aside from a small image in the very bottom, left, corner of the inside. Tilting it to get a better look, he pulled it closer. It appeared to be a wreath of vines with a starburst within it. He gulped as he recognized the image.

 

As though it had burned him, he threw the card back onto the counter, slamming his left hip into the edge of the countertop as he took a step backwards. His mouth suddenly felt dry. Something wasn’t right. There was a niggling in his chest, tugging at him as the words stared up at him. It meant something. Desperate for distraction, he reached for the last letter reading simply ‘Lance.’ Recognizing George’s handwriting immediately, he found himself too interested in the contents of the envelope to worry about the card.

 

“Must have stopped by just to slide it through the mail slot,” he mumbled to himself, quickly tearing into the side and sliding his finger along the seam of the envelope.

 

Turning it upside down, he let the two folded pieces of paper fall into his hand. Setting the envelope aside, he opened the bigger letter first. The paper, once white, was now a pale yellow, and the writing was the faded and hard to read.

 

* * *

 

> _Elon McClain & Mara Whelan_
> 
> _Labor begins just after daybreak_
> 
> _Child born during twilight_
> 
> _28 July, 1992, at 6:04pm_
> 
> _Boy_
> 
> _Cairns Keep, West Lothian_
> 
> _Mara and son seem well_
> 
> _Child has been named Lance McClain_
> 
> _Mara calls him coimeádaí síochána_
> 
> _Too dangerous to move them_
> 
> _We leave at dawn_

* * *

Lance couldn’t help but smile a little despite the tears building against his vision. Elon and Mara. There was something about knowing their names that, despite how small it was, made them feel real to him; it made him feel closer to them. Trailing a finger over the aged letter, he let his tongue attempt to form the foreign words. What did that mean? Who had penned the account? Why was it dangerous to move them? Was it because of her recent birth or did they know that someone was after them?

 

In proper fashion for the day, questions burned at his mind. There was so much he had to know. Suddenly remembering the second item after wiping his eyes with the back of his hands, he gently laid the letter beside the envelope and focused on the smaller paper in his hand. When he unfolded it, he found himself frozen. That same symbol from the postcard he’d just received, the vine wreathed sunburst, sat alongside part of the phrase that his mother had called him; _coimeádaí._

 

Immediately he recalled George’s words; _‘_ _The word means ‘Keeper,’ but as for the symbol there’s not much that I can tell you except… Well, you’ll see when I bring it to you_.’

 

With a cold sweat beading across his skin, he picked up the letters and made his way through the darkened house, flipping on his bedroom light as he entered. Sitting the letters in the top drawer of his bedside table, he closed it quietly before closing the door and standing before the mirror just behind it. Quickly, he discarded his t-shirt and tossed it towards the hamper. He wasn’t surprised to see his eyes unusually wide, just as he was unsurprised by just how tightly his hands were fisted in the fabric of his boxers. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he turned so that he was standing with his left side facing the glass. Slowly, he raised his left arm and hissed out a breath.

 

Several shades darker than his skin, a tattoo-esque brand was staring back at him from just atop his ribs. A sunburst, encircled by a wreath of vines.

 

“Birthmark my ass.”

  



	3. The Highland

Lance sat on the edge of his bed for a long while, silently staring at his own bewildered expression. What did this mean? What was going on? How had that postcard wound up in the mail that day, the day that he was told the truth about the circumstances of his birth? One question in particular haunted him: What was that symbol?

 

Searching his memory, he tried to remember if he had come across it before but quickly came up blank. He was about to grab his laptop when he remembered George telling him that he’d recognized the symbol from the obelisks at the dig site. Scrambling out of the bedroom, Lance sped through the darkened condo. He found the corner of his writing desk with an unlucky pinky toe and, after a string of colorful curses, managed to straighten and limp over to the table beside his recliner.

 

The excruciatingly bright screen had him expelling another few choice words as he squinted and searched through his contact list, blinking the spots out of his vision as he pulled the phone up to his ear. It took about four rings before he answered.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, it’s me. I’m sorry for waking you but I have something really important that I need to ask you and I don’t think it can wait.”

 

Lance heard rustling in the background as well as Helena’s signature lumberjack-style snoring. For such a wisp of a woman, she could rattle a house with that noise.

 

“Okay Lance, what’s going on?”

 

George’s voice was notably clearer and he imagined that he’d relocated from bed to his study to speak in private.

 

“You know that symbol you were talking about? The one under my arm?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“You said that you saw the same one on the excavation site. I need you to tell me the name of the leading archaeologist and everything you can about the dig. What happened? Did they find anything else?”

 

The hesitation was palpable and Lance waited for what seemed like entire minutes before the other man spoke.

 

“I told you, Lance, that I didn’t want anything else to do with that dig. When I left Scotland, I told myself I was done. I didn’t contact anyone about what we’d found and I didn’t look into it afterwards. I have no idea what became of it or what they found. Please, don’t ask me anymore about it; I’m not going to discuss it.”

 

“That’s not good enough,” he snapped, “I got a card in the mail and it has the same symbol on it. It’s marked from Scotland but there’s no return address. Somebody knows something. Someone has to be watching me. It mentioned the return of the ‘keeper.’ Someone wants me to go to Scotland.”

 

“Lance, you can’t go there. What if it has something to do with the people who attacked your parents? It’s too dangerous.”

 

“A little late to start acting like a father now, isn’t it,” Lance scoffed, “besides, I don’t think I’m in danger, I just think that… Maybe someone has more answers for me. I just needed to know what you knew about that symbol.”

 

“I don’t know anything about it. Aside from seeing it on the site, I’ve never come across it before. Look, I know that things weren’t easy for you here and that we weren’t the family that you needed but-”

 

There was a pause, and when George spoke again his voice was thick.

 

“-I don't want to see anything happen to you.”

 

“I appreciate the concern, but if I can find out more about my parents then I need to do that for myself.”

 

Lance let his tone soften as he added, “thanks.”

 

“Is there anything I can do to talk you out of this?”

 

“I don't think so. This can’t be a coincidence and if someone knows something, then I want in on it.”

 

“I thought you’d say that,” George sighed ruefully, “so I’ll tell you this much; the site was in West Lothian near the Harperrig Reservoir.”

 

Something clicked in his mind immediately when he heard that name.

 

“West Lothian? It wasn’t near Cairns Castle, was it?”

 

“About a mile out from it, yeah.”

 

“That’s all I needed to know. Get some sleep, sorry for waking you up.”

 

“It’s okay. Promise me you’ll use your head and that you’ll get out of there if things get… Odd.”

 

“I’ll be fine. Goodnight.”

 

He didn’t want to think about ‘odd’ anymore, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was going to be the only dish on the menu until he could get to the bottom of things. After he hung up, he did a quick google search for the phrase that his mother had called him.

 

“Keeper of the peace,” he read aloud to himself, “what kind of crock is that?”

 

Lance would be the first to admit that he wasn’t the type to be keeper of anything, hell, he couldn’t even keep a goldfish alive. He stared at the screen until it turned off, the wheels in his mind moving as he thought about what George had said to him. There was no other option. Moving to the desk, he pulled up his chair and opened his laptop. After emailing his editor the status of his recently completed novel, he began pulling up tabs upon tabs of travel sites.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dude, I can’t believe you’re taking a split-second vacation and the first place you can think of is Scotland.”

 

The corner of Lance’s mouth rose in a small smirk at Hunk’s words.

 

“It’s only half vacation, Hunk. I’m planning to do some research from my next book while I’m there.”

 

His friend shook his head.

 

“I can’t believe you. You literally just finished a book and you’re already ready to start the next one? Do you ever rest?”

 

“A man’s gotta eat,” he shrugged, “thanks for offering to come with me, by the way. Vacations are better with friendly faces.”

 

“Ah, it’s no big deal. I wasn’t looking forward to spending all that time at home twiddling my thumbs until my next assignment comes in,” Hunk grinned, nudging him with an elbow, “especially not with my best friend jetting across the ocean. At least this way I can make sure you get some sleep. You kinda still look like a zombie.”

 

“That is the second time you’ve told me how terrible I look. I’m only letting that go because the plane’s about to take off and you’re going to start turning green any minute now. I’m not going to be the only zombie.”

 

He couldn’t help but feel a little smug as Hunk’s dark eyes widened and his eyes darted across the cabin.

 

“It’s hard to believe that someone who works on designs for space travel can’t even fly without turning into an endless fountain of puke.”

 

“Please don’t say puke,” Hunk begged weakly as his eyes probed the window to Lance’s left, gaze steady on the tarmac.

 

“Sorry,” Lance snickered, patting him on the shoulder, “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just try to go to sleep.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try that.”

 

There was no doubt in his mind that Hunk would get to sleep eventually, especially since he knew that they were in for a twelve-hour flight from Miami to Edinburgh, but it was likely to be only after he’d spewed himself to fatigue. His smile fell away as he looked back over to him. Lance had called him early that same morning to tell him that he was leaving for a last minute vacation, making sure that he didn’t come by looking for him and thinking he’d died from exhaustion. He’d been surprised when Hunk had offered to come with him.

 

If he were being honest with himself, he felt guilty over allowing him to tag along. Though he had told George that he didn’t feel like he was in any danger, if he were wrong that meant that he was putting Hunk’s life in danger right alongside his own. It was selfish to want his friend at his side, especially if things turned south, but his mouth had acted before his brain could stop it and the next thing he knew they were on a last minute flight together, heading out of the country.

 

After the plane took off and they were at cruising altitude, Hunk cleared his throat.

 

“Hey, can I ask you something that I’ve been wondering for a while?”

 

“Sure, yeah. What’s up?”

 

“All of your stories are like these Lord of the Rings style settings with all these fights between people and elves. Why is that?”

 

Lance chuckled, letting his head loll to the side to stare out the window at the sparkling ocean beneath them.

 

“They aren’t all elves, dude. I write all kinds of creatures, but I guess I do tend to focus on the more human-esque ones. I dunno why that is. As for why the stories turn out the way that they do… I honestly don’t really know that either. I know it might sound stupid but the characters just do what they want; I’m only along to write it down.”

 

Hunk raised a brow and gave a slight shake of his head.

 

“It’s nice to have you back, Pretentious Lance.”

 

“Thanks, Vomit-Comet Hunk.”

 

He knew how it sounded, but that didn’t make it any less true. As he watched the glittering waves roll rhythmically below them, he remembered the first time that he’d picked up a pen. It had been a short story about a young girl who had bested a giant in a battle of wits and won the lives of the men it had kidnapped; he’d been fourteen. Since then, Lance had participated in several online original story contests and, before he’d sold his first novel at nineteen, had seen his work published in several small magazines.

 

Ever since he was a kid, he’d spend his free time lying in bed with his eyes closed, letting stories unfold behind his eyelids. It was almost as though he were there, watching the events play out in real time. He’d meant it when he said that they did what they wanted; Lance was only there to record. ‘Your characters seem to have a mind of their own,’ his editor had told him once after she’d finished his second novel. She had merely laughed when he’d told her that he thought they did.

 

* * *

 

 

Tiny snippets of off-color humor and drunken prattle filled the pub, the sounds having become so routine of a usual Monday night that they gave Keith Kogane little pause. Most of the patrons that showed up so early in the week were either usuals or drunkards and he was thankful that both groups were few in number. He ran a cloth over the bar, wiping up the rings from sweating glasses and a clumsy tourist’s spilled stout. He didn’t even bother looking up when the pub door opened, his eyes fixed on his task. Keith’s nose twitched.

 

“You’re late,” he announced as they seated themselves at the bar, snickering to himself when he heard the telltale shifts of them trying their best to wedge their small frame onto the barstool.

 

“Shove it,” Katie smirked, brushing her hair back from her face and readjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose, “I know, but I brought something good that I think you’re definitely going to want to see.”

 

Keith turned his back to the bar, tossing the soaked rag into a bin before leaning his lower back against the lip of the bar. In the mirror situated behind the various bottles of liquor, he watched her fiddle with the messenger bag that she always kept on her. Her hair had been wound into a long, loose, caramel braid that she left dangling over her right shoulder, the shorter tendrils around her face pulling free to curl outwardly at the ends. She wore a pair of faded overalls over a white long sleeve which, when coupled with her small stature, gave her the look of a fourteen year old playing the part of an adult.

 

“What do you have for me, short stack?”

 

Wrinkling her nose as she pulled her laptop from her bag, she rolled her eyes.

 

“I’ll tell you when you get me my pint of McEwan’s.”

 

Keith turned around, leaning his forearms on the bar as he pretended to give her a concerned once-over.

 

“Sorry, Lass, but I’m going to need to see some ID.”

 

“I hate you,” she grumbled, “I’m beyond old enough for a pint and you know it. I can’t believe I have to put up with this shit.”

 

“Sorry, it’s the law,” he chirped happily as she dug her ID out of her bag, “and watch your mouth young lady.”

 

“Oh, sorry,” she deadpanned, “I can’t believe I have to put up with this _fucking shit_.”

 

Chuckling, he waved off her ID when she flashed it, and a finger, to him; he didn’t need to see it to know how old she was. Reaching under the bar for a glass, he cleared the tap lines and began on her ale.

 

“You gonna tell me what you’ve got or am I going to have to guess?”

 

She shot him an unamused glance before opening up her laptop and making a few quick pecks before turning it around to him. Keith handed her the pint carefully, making sure to avoid her precious hardware, and then scanned the display.

 

“I found this with my mail.”

 

On the screen was an image of a photocopied strip of paper next to an envelope with no markings. The paper said only, ‘ ** _The Keeper Comes_**.’

 

Keith felt his hands clench against the cool surface of the wood, swallowing thickly.

 

“Do you have any idea who could have sent it, or if we can even trust it?”

 

“No and no,” she answered, taking a sip of her drink after the head flattened, “but it’s our only word so it has to mean something.”

 

“We should tell the others; we need to be on alert.”

 

“That was my thinking exactly.”

 

Keith hesitated for a moment as he reached for his phone.

 

“Do you think this could be it?”

 

Katie shrugged a shoulder, but he could see the way her fingers were clasped a fraction too tightly around the glass.

 

“I honestly don’t know.”

 

Flattening his lips, he dug his phone out of his pocket and hit his first speed dial. A soft, melodic, voice answered almost immediately.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Allura, we need to talk.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance and Hunk wound up in the Edinburgh airport just after midnight, both irritatingly wide-awake after a long plane nap. Despite the fact that he knew he was there on a mission, Lance couldn’t help but gasp slightly as the plane had descended, his eyes drawn to the beautifully classic old world beauty that was the Scottish capital. Even in the darkness the city was ethereal, it’s steeples, turrets, and spires jutting up against the veil of night while the sea at its side moved in long, leisurely, waves. From high atop Castle Rock, overlooking the rest of the city, Edinburgh castle sat like a silent sentinel, it’s lines and timeless architecture proclaiming its majesty and might.

 

It might have been his imagination, or the fumes from being seated next to a giant vomit machine, but something about his first step on Scottish soil felt… Destined. The pair wound their way through the throng of people and caught a cab. Their driver, an aging man with a shock of grey hair to match his patchy grey beard, moved to put their suitcases in the trunk but the pair was quick to object, hefting their heavy belongings themselves. Lance gave their driver the address of the condo that they would be staying at for the next two weeks and then they were off.

 

“How does it feel to be here,” Lance asked Hunk, who was looking a little less green around the gills.

 

“I’ll tell you when I can stop being so thrilled about being on the ground,” he muttered, leaning his head against the back of his seat.

 

“You really are just the worst flyer, dude.”

 

“People were made to be on the ground, Lance,” Hunk whined, a hand rising to rub at his stomach, “it’s not natural.”

 

“Says the guy working to put people in space. You’re a real bucket of contradictions, Hunk.”

 

“Yeah, yeah; whatever. I just hope there are some places open where we can grab some food. I’m starving.”

 

“Considering what you did in that plane, I don't even know how you have a stomach left.”

 

“If you lads are looking for a place to eat, there’s a pub near this address that’s got a hell of a steak pie,” their driver offered, his weathered countenance crinkling with a large grin as he winked at them in the rearview, “and a few good lookin’ lasses to go with it.”

 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Lance cackled, leaning forward against his seatbelt to throw an arm casually over the unoccupied passenger seat, “what’s it called?”

 

“The Highland,” he answered, “and it’s probably not very full what with it being the beginnin’ of the week. If you decide to stop in, don’t mind that pissy lookin’ brat behind the counter.”

 

“He sounds like a peach.”

 

“Permanent scowler, that one,” Moggie said with a shake of his head, “but he pours a mean ale.”

 

They listened to Moggie tell them about the city and recommend some friendly places for tourists, thankful for his kind advice as they neared their destination, pulling up to a row of immaculate street front condos a few minutes later.

 

“Can I ask you something, Moggie?”

 

“‘Course.”

 

“I’m writing a book and I need some information. Do you know anything about an archeological dig out in West Lothian about twenty-four years ago? Near the Harperrig Reservoir?”

 

It was subtle, the shift in his demeanor, but Lance caught it nonetheless. The old man’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit and he wet his lips, hold on the steering wheel tightening before he forced himself to loosen his grip. The blue of his gaze met his own momentarily and Lance felt himself shrink back, leaning away from the seat he’d been propped up against. There was a sharpness that he hadn’t expected, and his thin lips dipped into a frown a split second before he pulled them upwards.

 

“Can’t say that I have, but you can ask around. I’m sure if you talk to the right people, you’ll get _exactly_ what you’re looking for.”

 

“Thanks for the advice,” Lance forced out, ignoring the concerned look he got from Hunk at the strained sound of his words.

 

“Not a problem young man. You fellas enjoy your stay, now.”

 

He was quick to push out of the cab and just as quick to grab their bags and pay him his fare. Though he knew where his host had left their keys, he waited until after the man had pulled away from the curb and disappeared from view before he walked up to the door.

 

“That was… weird.”

 

“Really? He just seemed like a regular crazy old guy to me,” Lance shrugged, reaching up to the old lamp beside the door where the woman had tucked the spare key.

 

“I hope everyone isn’t that weird. That dude gave me the heebie-jeebies.”

 

“Everything gives you the heebie-jeebies, Hunk. You’re the human version of a Chihuahua.”

 

“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t notice.”

 

“I think _all_ old people are creepy.”

 

“Uh huh, whatever you say. Let’s just get these bags inside and go check out that place he mentioned; my stomach is eating itself.”

 

Lance opened the door and the pair brought in their luggage, sitting it just inside the doorway before he pulled the door and pocketing the key. Honestly, he was famished as well and, despite the fact that it had been recommended by the crypt keeper, he was going to spend all night thinking about what the hell a steak pie was and what it tasted like if he didn’t stop by that pub to try one.

 

“C’mon then, Hunk. Let’s go check out The Highland.”


	4. The Path Less Traveled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely artwork was done by the insanely talented and positively wonderful [Ani!](http://ManiacAni.tumblr.com/) Please go check out her work and shower her in the love that she deserves!! 
> 
> The FULL art is [HERE](https://maniacani-arts.tumblr.com/post/161136159418/his-sharp-features-were-softened-by-heavily) (trust me, click it! She went into crazy detail and did such amazing work!)
> 
> # ☽ MP ☾

The Highland pub was smaller than Lance had initially expected. It stood nestled between an antique shop and a loose tea shop in a small corner of the city’s new district, hidden away from most of the shopping centers and heavy tourist traffic. The thick bordering around the frame of the pub was a dark forest green inlaid with delicate silver filigree vines that wound along the sides and up to where the name stood in bold silver letters haloed by a series of four old world wrought iron gas lamps. Two large Tudor windows stood watch at either side of the door, showing a warmly lit interior with a long Victorian style mahogany bar backed by mirrors lined with an impressive array of fine spirits. From what they could see from the street, their driver had been correct; it was only a quarter full.

 

Lance let his eyes dance through the panes, lingering on the few patrons in the back that appeared to still have their wits about them. A pub was a good place to run across some older locals, and that was exactly what he was on the hunt for. When they walked inside, they were hit by the tangy scent of yeast and a more pleasant scent of food cooking behind the doors adjacent to the entrance behind the bar. Snickering at the sight of drool about to run down his companion’s chin, Lance staked out a stool at the bar, leaving one between him and a young woman who looked like she should still be holding onto her mother’s skirt tails.

 

The bartender, who’d been busy serving an older gentleman at the other end of the bar, let out a barely concealed hiss before schooling his features and moving up to where they sat.

 

“What can I get you?”

 

“Whiskey, neat, a coke for my friend,” Lance ordered, “and two steak pies.”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

“If it tastes as godly as whatever’s cooking back there smells, I’m in heaven,” Hunk sighed happily.

 

“Hopefully it does,” Lance added absently, turning away so that his left arm was on the bar while he scanned the rest of the pub behind them.

 

There were a few old men in the far left most corner, though they all wore the glassy eyes and reddened flush of several rounds worth of booze, and most of the others littering the booths along the back wall were likely too young to remember anything so far back. Only one man looked like he could be a promising lead.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he told Hunk, rapping his knuckles on the top of the bar to pull his attention away from the doors to the kitchen, “‘kay?”

 

“Sure, man, sounds good.”

 

Lance slid off of his stool and made for the booth just across from them, situated against the wall. The man looked to be in his forties, with a long mane of salt and peppered black hair and a week's worth of stubble on his jaw; he seemed content to nurse his pint by himself.

 

“Excuse me,” Lance interrupted him as he was taking a drink, clearing his throat as the man’s dark eyes slid over to him, “I’m very sorry to bother you but I have a question about something that happened here and no one seems to be able to tell me anything. If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind if I asked you about it?”

 

The man took a purposefully slow sip, pondering his words for a moment before answered in a deep brogue.

 

“Not many folks take too kindly to foreigners poking around in their business.”

 

“I understand that, but it’s nothing personal or judgmental.”

 

“Then ask.”

 

“I’m wondering if you know about an archaeological dig that took place in West Lothian about twenty-four years go, or if you know anyone who might? It was near the Harperrig Reservoir.”

 

His answer was instant.

 

“Can’t say that I do.”

 

“Well, thank you for your time.”

 

A hummed, ‘mmhmm’ was the only acknowledgement that he received before he huffed and moved back to the bar, sliding back onto his stool.

 

“Struck out again, huh?”

 

“Seriously, why does nobody know about this thing?”

 

“You said it was an archaeological dig from over twenty years ago? I can barely remember what I did yesterday, let alone something that happened twenty years ago.”

 

“That’s because twenty years ago you would have been four,” Lance muttered dryly, picking up his glass of whiskey as the bartender slid it to him.

 

“Is there something you folks need help with?”

 

“I appreciate it, but I think it might be from before your time,” Lance smirked, eyeing the man behind the counter.

 

 

He couldn’t have been any older than himself. His sharp features were softened by heavily lashed slate eyes and a full, pouting, mouth. His face was framed by messy bangs but the majority of his shaggy, black, hair was pulled into a ponytail at the back of his neck. His frame was slight but there was obvious pulling at the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white button-up, his biceps straining against the fabric. Merlot suspenders reached over his shoulders, fitting snugly against him as they crawled down to his black slacks and he had loosened the matching red, damask, tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons around his throat.

 

“How about you try me,” he challenged, resting his forearms on the bar and leaning in close enough that Lance caught the subtle musk of his cologne, “I’m older than I look.”

 

It was a few seconds before he found the words, having been caught in the shades of grey and blue melding in the man’s gaze and his eyes dropped, unbidden, to his curved lips before he could stop them. It was all he could do to tear himself away.

 

“Well,” he started, “I’m here doing some research for a book and I’m looking into an excavation near Harperrig Reservoir and Cairns Castle from about twenty-four years ago. So far nobody has been able to tell me anything and I’m wondering if it’s just because I’m an American or if they just don’t want to talk about it.”

 

Both the bartender and the young woman to his right pinned him with surprised, wide, looks.

 

“Where did you hear about an excavation?”

 

Taking another sip of his whiskey, Lance shrugged a shoulder.

 

“Does it matter? Can you tell me about it or not?”

 

Even a child could have picked up on the tension running along the silence that ensued before the young woman chuckled into her pint, shaking her head.

 

“I don't know who you were talking to, but there hasn’t been a significant dig out that way in some forty years.”  


“Aye,” the bartender agreed, pushing off from the wooden surface, “I’ve heard a lot of stories but I’ve never heard that one. Maybe one whiskey is the limit for you Americans.”

 

“See, I knew you couldn’t help me. You’re far too young to know anything about it.”

 

“You calling me a babe?”

 

“Oh, honey,” Lance cooed, “I don't think anyone would ever call you a babe.”

 

The man’s left eye twitched and the young woman choked on the gulp of the drink she’d just taken.

 

“But no, I’m not calling you a baby; babies are cute and don’t scowl like it’s their day job.”

 

“You’d scowl all day if you had to put up with jackasses like you, too.”

 

“Maybe you should just get laid. Someone should iron out the wrinkles in your brow before they get stuck that way.”

 

“You little-”

 

“Come on, Keith,” the woman said between bouts of laughter, “let it go.”

 

“And you stop being a dick, Lance,” Hunk sighed from his left, “I’m sorry for my friend; he’s a little on edge lately and we just got into town.”

 

“Don’t even worry about it, big guy,” Keith smirked, “if I couldn’t deal with brats then I’d make a pretty shit bartender.”

 

The bell that sounded from the back effectively stopped Lance from making any snarky comebacks as Keith made his way out from behind the bar to the kitchen.

 

“Really, you’re going to antagonize strangers in a foreign country? Do you want to murdered in Scotland?”

 

“Relax, Moggie had already told us that he was a pissy brat. This is in character, apparently.”

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the young woman butted in, sliding over to the seat next to Lance, “but did you say that you talked to someone named ‘Moggie?’”

 

“Oh yeah, the creepy old cab driver who looked like he plays the grim reaper at night,” Hunk nodded enthusiastically, “he got real weird after Lance asked him about that dig thing.”

 

“Have you seen him since then?”

 

Her previously cheerful demeanor had been replaced and her expression was stern, amber eyes glued to him from behind the large circular lenses of her glasses.

 

“Uh, no,” Lance answered, knitting his brows, “after he dropped us off we waited for him to leave and then we came over here. He was the one who told us to stop by. What’s the matter?”

 

“If you see him again, do not get in his cab, okay?”

 

“But-”  


“No buts,” she demanded, smacking a hand down on top of the bar, “do not get in his cab again and if you see him stay as far away as you can.”

 

“I told you he was weird,” Hunk whispered.

 

“What’s the deal, though?”

 

“What’s going on out here?”

 

Keith walked out of the kitchen bearing two large plates laden with blissfully greasy, thick cut, french fries and what reminded Lance of a shepherd's pie.

 

“She-”

 

“Pidge,” the woman corrected.

 

“Pidge here was just telling us about why we should never talk to Moggie again.”

 

Keith had only just sat the plates in front of them when he heard that name and went still, eyes shooting from Hunk and back to Lance.

 

“She’s right. Don’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Just don’t; he’s a bad guy and it wouldn’t be safe.”

 

“Sounds good to me, I’m in no hurry to be in a cramped space with him again anytime soon.”

 

“Hunk, aren’t you curious as to why?”

 

“Not really,” Hunk shrugged, “we both know it was weird and uncomfortable. You didn’t even open the door until after you saw him drive away. I’m perfectly fine with not knowing why we shouldn’t be around him. Maybe I’ll sleep a little sounder.”

 

“You are a lovable coward, my friend,” Lance grumbled, rolling his eyes.

 

“You should just take our advice. We know the guy, and he’s not someone you want to be around.”

 

“No offense, Mullet, but you aren’t exactly a peach yourself.”

 

“I-”

 

“Keith,” Pidge warned, shaking her head, “not the time.”

 

Keith’s lip curled in a faint snarl and Lance had to look closely at him, wondering if it was the whiskey playing tricks on him or if he really had seen the glint of a fang.

 

“Just be careful. That guy is a whole bunch of bad news.”

 

“Creepy old guys, jerky bartenders, and no information. I’m starting to think this trip was a waste,” Lance sighed, resting an elbow on the bar top and resting his chin in his hand.

 

“What is it that you want to know about that place anyway, Lance?”

 

“Ah, it’s nothing Hunk. I just heard about these symbols and I wanted to see them for myself.”

 

“Symbols and phantom digs? Oh yeah, you’re cut off.”

 

“Don’t worry, Mullet, I wouldn’t dream of spending my night with you lot.”

 

Lance immediately turned a flashy grin towards Pidge.

 

“With the exception of you, of course.”

 

Her smile was wide and just a bit too sharp to be pleasant.

 

“Not in a thousand years even if I was promised the gift of eternal life.”

 

“Heartbreaking! Oh well, you can’t blame a guy for trying,” he winked.

 

Pidge went back to her laptop which had seemed to magically apparate once she slid back to her original stool and Keith made himself scarce while Lance and Hunk dug into their meal. After a single granola bar for breakfast and some various snacks on their flight, his stomach was thankful for the grub; he could have wept in delight at the taste of salt and vinegar fries. Lance kept a watchful eye on the clock mounted on the wall behind the bar, wondering if he could force himself to sleep so that he wouldn’t be stuck dealing with jetlag. They remained in the pub for another twenty minutes, just long enough for both of them to clean their plates.

 

“Thank you for the food and drink,” Hunk waved as they both got to their feet, “it was great!”

 

“Not a problem,” Keith nodded, “have a safe night.”

 

“Ditto.”

 

The moment that the two of them had left the bar, Keith immediately looked over at Katie.

 

“I want to know everywhere they go.”

 

“What, you think I was sitting next to _Douchanova_ because I thought he was _dreamy,_ ” she cackled, “I slipped one of my trackers into his coat pocket when he was talking to his friend.”

 

“You’re a lifesaver.”

 

“Praise me later, we still might have a problem. You know that if he asked Moggie, then he’s going to be after him.”

 

“Are we sure it’s him? Can’t it be anyone else? Maybe someone less annoying?”

 

“We both know it’s him, Keith, and Moggie knows it too. I don't know how many times he’s asked that question but I doubt he’s finished and the more he talks, the more he puts everyone in danger; including us. We have to do something.”

 

“Allura said to keep close if we see anything, so keep an eye on their movements and I’ll start closing up. We’ll tail them to wherever they’re staying and then we’ll figure something out from there.”

 

Katie sighed, rolling her shoulders.

 

“Can’t we just toss him in a sack and drag him off to Shiro’s? It would be so easy and we wouldn’t have to creep behind buildings.”

 

“Does your brother know how crazy you are?”

 

“Where do you think I get it from,” she winked.

 

“Uh huh. I’m going to get started,” he announced, reaching over to grab her half-finished pint, “and you’re going to help me.”

 

“Slave driver,” she grumbled, sliding down from the stool, “but make it quick. We need to make sure we don’t let those two get too far.

 

* * *

 

 

“Seriously, are you looking for trouble or just a fight?”

 

Lance rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as they walked along the empty sidewalk. Only off the plane for an hour or so and he was already tired again. It was only their first night in the country and he already felt like giving up. How was he supposed to figure anything out if everyone was so dedicated to keeping the events to themselves?

 

“Neither, that guy just rubbed me wrong.”

 

“Maybe you need someone to rub you _right_ because I don't even know who you are right now. What’s been going on with you? You’re like an entirely different person.”

 

He debated, momentarily, the benefits of telling Hunk what he’d learned from George but quickly discarded the idea. It sounded crazy enough to him and he couldn’t imagine what Hunk would think if he knew that Lance was actually entertaining the ideas of magic pillars and creatures from beyond their plane. Just the thought had him chuckling.

 

“I’m sorry, did I say something funny?”

 

“Look, Hunk, I’m just wound up. You remember the way back to the condo, right?”

 

“Yeah-”

 

“Good. I’m going to walk for a while and see if I can’t manage to clear my head. Right now I’m not very good company,” he said with what he hoped passed for an apologetic smile, “so I’ll see you in a bit.”

 

“Wait, you really think that it’s a good idea to go gallivanting off on your own in a new place? Especially after the way everyone’s been acting?”

 

“Please. I can take care of myself, buddy. You want me to walk you back to the door so that you don't get kidnapped by the grim reaper,” he teased, taking his hands out of his pockets so that he could wiggle his fingers towards him.

 

“...Go take your walk.”

 

“That’s what I thought. Lock the door,” Lance instructed when they separated at the fork, “I’ll let you know it’s me.”

 

“Be safe.”

 

Lance waited until Hunk was almost out of sight before he started down the left leg of the fork. The streetlights were more sparsely placed than they had been near the pub, shadows moving over the asphalt as the moon hid it’s face behind a blanket of thick clouds. The only sounds as he wound deeper into a side street was the sound of his own footsteps and the echo of traffic from a few blocks off. A brisk breeze had him turning up the collar of his coat and nestling deeper into the thin fabric. Sixty degrees might have been warm to them, but from the perspective of a Miami native it was downright frigid.

 

As he idly passed a few closed storefronts and narrow alleyways, he thought back to the expressions he’d seen in the bar. Those two, Keith and Pidge, knew what he had been referring to. His thoughts, however, froze as he noticed a cab parked just up the block from him. Rationally, he knew that there were hundreds of cabs in the city and that it was extremely unlikely that it would be the same old man from the airport. That knowledge didn’t make him feel any better. After a few seconds of internal struggle, he forced one foot in front of the other in a desperate attempt to take command of his irritatingly frightened body.

 

Ducking his head and pulling his coat as far up as he could manage on his shoulders, Lance focused straight ahead and walked past the silent yellow cab. One step, then two… Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred and he allowed himself a sigh of relief as he put the cab twenty feet behind him. In the back of his mind he’d actually feared that-

 

He took a sharp intake of breath, his heart stopping as he saw his shadow cast on the sidewalk as an engine revved and headlights beamed onto his back. _No... No_. Lance felt his heart beginning pumping again, hearing its frantic beats in his ears as he pushed himself into motion, scanning the dark road for anywhere he could hide as he sped along the sidewalk. _Please_ , he begged silently of every deity that he’d ever read of, _just let me be paranoid and don’t let this be real_. The hum of the cab gained on him, the sound of the tires over the asphalt surrounding him. Against his own inner pleading and better judgement, Lance looked over his shoulder.

 

The cab was moving directly towards him, cutting straight through the road as though it’s driver was planning to mow him down on the sidewalk. It wasn’t until the vehicle passed beneath one of the few streetlights that he felt himself grow cold. In the darkness he hadn’t been able to make out the figure behind the steering wheel, but as the slivers of light drilled through the windshield, he was able to catch one thing; a shock of white hair.

 

He ran. The only thing on his mind was an endless mantra of ‘fuck’ as his footsteps filled the small alleyway he ducked into, echoing around him as his head whipped to each side, trying to decide how to throw him off. There was no way that he could get the cab through the space, which meant that if he really wanted to come after him, he’d have to do it on foot and there was no way that an old man could catch Lance McClain… At least, that’s what he’d thought. He didn’t, couldn’t, know how long he ran before he finally collapsed, falling to his knees amidst the stink of garbage and stagnant water. His breath came in ragged pulls as he fought for air, his lungs burning as the muscles in his calves throbbed and quivered.

 

A hysteric half-sob nearly escaped his lips at the sound of footsteps. He didn’t have the energy to run anymore and, even if he did, how long would he be able to outrun someone who could catch him so quickly? Using what little will he had, Lance forced himself to turn towards the sound; he would face whatever came head on. A second sound gave him pause, however, as he heard a different set of steps coming from the opposite side of the alley. He had just turned his head towards them when all the breath whooshed out of his lungs, his body was hurled against the cold brick of the building to his left, hidden against the side over an overflowing dumpster.

 

Coughing, he desperately tried to suck in a breath and rapidly clear his vision. His entire body ached from the force of the collision, tendrils of pain racing along his limbs as he tried to move. Pain, however, wasn’t the only thing shortening his range of motion. The cloud cover shifted and the brief stream of moonlight allowed him a look at the massive creature standing over him. Large yellow eyes stared at him intently, set against fur so black that it nearly melded into the night, and two massive paws sat alongside both of his temples. Its mouth was open as it panted, the pink of its tongue visible between long, sharp, canines.

 

Before he could utter a word, the large cat leaned its head towards him and Lance tightly shut his eyes, readying himself for the inevitable. Hot breath fanned over his skin, but after several seconds he was forced to open his eyes when he felt warm, soft, fur press against his face. The feline had leaned its forehead against his own, it’s eyes so close that it was impossible to look anywhere else.

 

“Stay. Quiet.”

 

The words were deep and gravelly, the creature’s body rumbling with the sound. Lance didn’t have time to react before he saw shadows shifting, signaling the arrival of the man who had been on his tail. Man, however, wasn’t quite the word that fit him anymore. Moggie, or what had once been Moggie, was the likes of which he could have only conjured in his nightmares. The cabbie’s weathered skin hung at the creature’s waist like an unnecessary jacket in the middle of summer, an empty sack of flesh that flopped sickeningly with each step. It looked as though he’d unzipped his skin from the head to the lower back and forgotten to step out of it.

 

His body was curved, long arched feet propelling the monster’s body upwards while it’s long arms nearly drug the ground. Each hand was a weapon, fingers melding into sharpened points, and it’s two rows of jagged teeth shone through where it’s lips looked to have been torn away. Lance had no idea how it could have followed him, it’s eye sockets hollow and black as it stomped closer to where he lay still beneath the large cat. The monster continued with deliberately slow steps, it’s bald head swiveling with each footfall, as though it were testing him. There was a pause as Lance heard the second set of steps again, looking to his left just in time to see the woman from the bar, Pidge, duck in behind a dumpster opposite him.

 

He made desperate eye contact, trying his best to project his words to her. _You have to get out of here_ , he thought desperately, trying to convey the thoughts with his eyes, _you have to run_! She looked over at him and winked, as though she knew what he was thinking and paid it little heed. Pidge stayed close to the ground, peeking out from the edge of the dumpster as the thing neared.

 

“I can smell you,” it wheezed, head tilted to the right as it snaked it’s tongue out to lap at its teeth, “I can smell your sweat-”

 

“Didja smell me too?”

 

Lance watched in horror as Pidge darted out from her hiding place, dodging one of the monster’s long swipes as it hissed. Dancing away easily, she pulled a pair of brass knuckles from the pocket of her overalls.

 

“Try again, creature feature,” she taunted, pressing a latch on the modified knuckles to release a four-inch stiletto blade from the piece against her palm, “I’m down here.”

 

Her steps were quick, her small, agile, frame easily fleeing its reach, but watching her spar with that creature inspired a wealth of anger and guilt within Lance.

 

“She’s going to get hurt,” he whispered, “I’ve got to do something-”

 

“She’s fine,” his protector growled.

 

“But for how long,” he retorted, “it’s my fault she’s there to begin with. I can’t let her get hurt because of me.”

 

“Do not-”

 

It was cut off by a scream. Both of them tensed as two of the creature’s fingers slid straight through Pidge’s left forearm, pulling her closer to it as the appendages continued sliding through her flesh. Blood careened down her arm, dripping from her fingertips as she struggled, slicing at the air to little avail. He heard rather than saw the cat’s claws curl into the ground in response to her cry. Lance couldn’t watch, he couldn’t let her be cut down because of him. With a burst of strength, he raised his arms and pushed with all his might at the chest of the stocky feline above him and slid out from beneath its body. He didn’t know what he was doing as he rolled across the asphalt and sprang to his feet, he didn’t know how he could hurt it, but he did know that he had to give her the opportunity to make a move.

 

“Hey, tall, pale, and sickly,” he yelled, gathering all the courage he could muster, “you lookin’ for me?”

 

It’s head swiveled towards his voice and immediately it flung it’s arm backwards, a chilling _‘slick_ ’ as it slid it’s tapered digits from her arm and sent Pidge to her back as it advanced on him. He looked around for anything he could use as a weapon but came up empty as the creature got within striking range; he was screwed but at least Pidge was safe.

 

“You,” it breathed seconds before the razored fingers swiped at him, missing contact by a hair’s breadth as he ducked out of the way, “you cannot live.”

 

“Too bad, I like living. You should try it sometime, maybe without an old guy as a fanny-pack.”

 

“Talks too much,” it hissed with another strike.

 

It’s third strike caught him just above his right eye, tearing into the flesh just above his eyebrow and loosing a torrent of blood into his eye. Squinting against the burn, he closed his eye as the warmth slid down his face. With his left eye, he could see that the cat had gone to Pidge’s side and that she was on her feet, cradling her arm against her chest.

 

“Get out of here,” he yelled as he barely dodged the next swing, foot slipping in a puddle, “move!”

 

Then the creature was falling to its side with a surprised gurgle, a black blur latched onto its back.

 

“Come on,” Pidge yelled as she skirted them, grabbing a hold of his wrist with her one good arm and tugging him back towards the street with surprising strength.

 

“What about him,” he asked, digging in his heels as he watched the creature’s fingers graze the feline’s throat, “he saved me-”

 

“He’ll be fine, this isn’t his first go,” she said, “but if you stay here you’re putting us all in more danger. Now, come on!”

 

He spared a look back at the two before he gave in. Pidge led the way quickly through the maze like alleyways, moving like lightning even as she guarded her injury.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

She didn’t bother turning to look at him, continuing to lead him.

 

“Somewhere safe, somewhere where we’ll all be safe.”


	5. Aftermath

He didn’t know how long he’d been following her before she finally stopped, her breath ragged and labored as she gritted her teeth, fingers flexing around the bicep of her injured arm.

 

“Are you okay,” he wheezed before he was hit by a fit of coughing, leaning a forearm up against the wall they were resting near to keep himself upright and wiping the back of his hand across his eye.

 

The sleeve of his jacket was stained with patches of blood where he’d done his best to clear his face and the back of his hand was streaked. His skin simultaneously itched and throbbed, the smaller treks of blood drying and cracking against the fine hairs of his eyebrow and around his eyelid.

 

“Fine,” Pidge managed from between her clenched jaws, “we just need to get inside.”

 

Lance took a moment to look around them, noticing actual traffic and the return of clustered streetlamps. He saw then, with no small degree of gratitude, that the wall they rested against belonged to the Western General Hospital. The pair stood still for several long minutes, both of them trying to gather their breath before they stumbled into the medical center on shaky legs. The clerk behind the Accident and Emergency Room registration desk immediately picked up her phone when the two of them got through the door, speaking quickly to whoever was on the other end before she sat the phone back in the cradle.

 

Lance eyed the lobby, looking for anyone else who might be in similar straights; after his last encounter, he was feeling wary of being stuck around anymore strangers. The lobby, however, was surprisingly empty.

 

“Hello-”

 

“Call Allura Prin and tell her that Katie is here looking worse for wear,” Pidge interrupted the clerk after scanning the empty lobby, “I don't think getting us in is going to be a problem.”

 

“She’s the practitioner on standby tonight,” the older woman nodded with a kind smile, “and I’ve already called her down. It should be but a-”

 

The double doors just to the left of the desk clicked, swinging open in a smooth motion to reveal a woman an inch or two shorter than his own five ten wearing a short white lab coat over a pair of vibrant teal scrubs. Lance couldn’t help but stare, intrigued by the combination of the long, solid white, hair that she had pulled up, bright blue eyes, and bronzed skin. Immediately she was walking towards them with long, purposeful, strides, her eyes combing both of their appearances as she neared.

 

“I’ll take care of it, Rosie,” the woman nodded to the clerk, placing a slender hand on Pidge’s shoulder to gently guide her back while waving lance after them with her other hand.

 

“What about their paperwork-”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”

 

Lance waited for her to ask them about their injuries as they walked the maze of exam room corridors, footsteps echoing off of the gleaming white tile, but she remained silent. In the harsh florescent lighting, Pidge looked worse than he’d initially thought. Beneath her left elbow, the entirety of her once-white sleeve was soaked in blood that was still managing a small trickle down her forearm and her clothing and hair was disheveled to match. The guilt that he’d felt reared up again as he remembered the sight of that creature throwing her as though she’d been little more than a ragdoll.

 

The smell of alcohol and iodine made him feel a little light headed as they were finally ushered into a large double room. The nurse shut the large glass room door behind her and pulled the curtain from wall to wall, giving them as much privacy as she could. After helping Pidge up onto the first bed, the woman motioned for Lance to have a seat on the other. It was odd, he thought as he watched her, that she was so calm and seemingly unperturbed by her friend’s state.

 

“Is he who I think he is,” she asked as she moved around the room, grabbing a roll of gauze from the drawer beside the room’s sink.

 

“That seems to be the thought.”

 

“So he was attacked?”

 

Her voice, though light and airy, held an edge of steel as she reached into one of the pockets of her scrubs to pull out a pair of small, sharp, scissors.

 

“No, we both got fucked up in a really wild game of twister,” she answered with a roll of her eyes.

 

There was silence as Allura’s hand stilled and she glared down at Pidge.

 

“Moggie,” Pidge muttered after the silence drug on for a moment, watching as Allura slid the edge of the scissors beneath the wet cuff of her sleeve and begin cutting up the length of the fabric.

 

“Sweet Maker,” Allura murmured quietly as she pushed the dissected fabric away from the young woman’s arm, grimacing at the clean holes gouged straight through, “did you think before you rushed in there?”

 

“My job is to keep him safe,” Pidge huffed with a slight pout, “it wasn’t like I ran out screaming ‘HEY, STAB ME _RIGHT HERE_.’”

 

“You have to be more careful,” Allura chastised, “you don’t heal as quickly as you once did and you could get yourself killed.”

 

“Again, I had a job to do. I’m well aware that it could get me killed.”

 

Lance listened to them with his mouth open, gaping like a novelty mounted fish. _I had a job to do. I’m well aware that it could get me killed. My job is to keep him safe._

 

“Sorry to spoil the moment but just what the hell are you talking about? What do you mean it’s your job to keep me safe? I don’t even know you! I met you once!”

 

Pidge and Allura both looked away from one another and towards him.

 

“He doesn’t know?”

 

“Of course not, we hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”

 

“Shiro probably should be the one to talk to him, then; he has a way with these things.”

 

“Agreed, but the whole experience is going to be a headache; ask Keith.”

 

Lance choked down a strangled, hysterical, laugh as they ignored his questions. He wondered, briefly, if Keith hadn’t put something in his drink in revenge for his smart ass comments at the bar but quickly discarded the idea; he didn’t strike him as that kind of guy. What he had seen, what he had experienced, was beyond him.

 

“I’d like some answers,” he ground out, fingers clenching in the white linens beneath him, “I deserve some answers.”

 

“You’ll get them,” Allura said simply as she sanitized Pidge’s wounds and finished mopping up the blood, “when I finish with your wounds.”

 

He clamped his mouth closed. No matter what he felt, no matter what he needed, these people would only speak on their terms and that much was painfully clear after the discussion about Moggie at the bar. So, despite his desperate urge to yell and demand that they tell him what was going on, he sat still on the edge of the bed, watching Allura bandage Pidge’s arm from her elbow to her wrist.

 

When the nurse finished, she clipped the ruined sleeve off of her shirt and threw it away along with her gloves before reaching for another pair.

 

“I have a spare jacket if you need one.”

 

“It’s fine,” Pidge sighed, appraising her arm, “just take care of him and get me some pain killers.”

 

Allura smirked, corner of her mouth lifting as she crossed over to him.

 

“What’s your name,” she asked as she raised her hands to his face, tilting it so that she could look over the cut.

 

“Lance, Lance McClain.”

 

“I’m sorry that things turned out this way.”

 

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, “what can ya do?”

 

“You’re going to need some stitches.”

 

He wrinkled his nose.

 

“Stitches? Really?”

 

“Unless you want a big, ugly, scar,” she affirmed, running a wet cloth over his face to wipe away what blood he had smeared.

 

“Stitches sound great.”

 

She chuckled, “I thought you might see it my way. Your skin is obviously well taken care of so I didn’t think you’d want to ruin it with a permanent mark.”

 

“Finally, a woman who sees the little things.”

 

“Ugh,” Pidge groaned, flopping back against the pillow on her bed, “I’m beginning to wish I’d let meatsuit take you.”

 

“Why didn’t you?”

 

The humor died away instantly and a solemn air filled the room.

 

“Because you’re important,” Pidge answered simply, turning her face away from him.

 

“But why am I important? Why am I so important that you were willing to get hurt for me?”

 

“We’ll explain everything to you, like I said, after we take care of your wounds. We need to get you cleaned up and then take you somewhere where you won't be found by the likes of what put this cut on your forehead.”

 

“I’m going to let that slide for now, but at least answer one thing for me Pidge.”

 

Pidge turned her face back to the right, looking at him.

 

“One thing.”

 

Lance waited until Allura had finished sanitizing and numbing his wound and walked off for a suture kit before he spoke again.

 

“How did you know what Moggie was?”

 

“These things, like the one that attacked you, tend to use fresh corpses as a disguise. The thing is that the fresher the body, the more they can learn about them. Moggie, the _real_ Moggie, died about four days ago from a heart attack and he was a regular at The Highland. So, when you said you’d been in a cab with a guy named Moggie who recommended it to you, we knew that something was using his body.”

 

“And that’s why you followed me?”

 

She smirked, shaking her head before turning back to face the wall.

 

“You only get one question.”

 

“Awesome, then I’ll put that one on the growing list of ‘shit I expect to get answers to.’”

 

Pidge snickered to herself as he fell quiet and Lance tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself as Allura pulled out a needle to begin his stitches. While she began piecing him back together, he thought about whether or not he truly wanted to go anywhere with these people. Whatever was going on here was dangerous, very dangerous, and Hunk was still at the condo on his own.

 

“Will my friend be safe?”

 

“No,” Allura answered immediately, eyes never straying from her task, “we don't know how many others that thing spoke to or told about you before it came after you and, if he knows that the two of you were together, he likely knew that he could use your friend to draw you out.”

 

“It’s Shitty Tactics 101,” Pidge agreed, “and trust me when I tell you that nothing is _too_ shitty for them.”

 

“Then we have to get to him! It’s my fault that he’s in this mess-”

 

“Stop jerking, you’re making this difficult. Pidge, call Keith and tell him to take care of it.”

 

“On it. What’s the address?”

 

She fumbled around in her pocket for a few seconds before pulling out her phone. She was quick to dial the bartender and relay the information that Lance gave her.

 

“Okay, he’s on his way. Don’t worry,” Pidge added, voice softening as she shoved the phone back in her pocket, “he’ll take care of it. Your friend will be fine.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

He didn’t want to think about one of those things finding Hunk.

 

“Alright, Lance, you’re all done. I’m going to get Pidge’s pain pills and then I’m going to bring you something to help you relax. After what you’ve been through tonight, you could use some rest to recharge. I’ll drive you both to Shiro’s and then you’ll have your answers, okay?”

 

Allura snipped the thread and examined her handiwork as she spoke, aiming him a comforting smile as she patted his shoulder and made to dispose of her gloves and utensils.

 

“Okay.”

 

If he were being honest, he was completely drained. After the adrenaline from their encounter had worn off, he was left feeling ragged and empty; _not unlike a Moggie suit_ , he thought to himself. While Allura pulled back the room curtain and let herself out in search of medication, Lance let his fingertips graze the bandage covering his new stitches. Of all the things that he had expected to find in this country, creepy nightmare monsters had certainly not been one of them.

 

“Hey, Pidge?”

 

Once more she turned towards him.

 

“Mmmhmm?”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Don’t mention it.”

 

“Well I mean-”

 

“No, _seriously_ , don’t mention it. I just got shish-kabobbed and I don’t feel like thinking about it. Just do me a favor and try not to wind up in that situation again, okay? I only have so many limbs.”

 

Lance couldn’t help but snicker.

 

“You know, you’re a total badass for a tiny thing.”

 

“Remember that the next time that you think about calling me tiny.”

 

“Will do,” he laughed, spying the tiny smile she tried to hide as she turned away again.

 

“Okay,” Allura said, breezing through the door with two tiny white cups that she handed to them before filling up two more with water from the sink, “take these and then follow me. We need to get out of here before Rosie comes after me for paperwork. Her drink hasn’t had time to take effect yet.”

 

She had discarded her lab coat in favor of a black hoodie that sagged low on her frame, hitting the center of her thighs.

 

“We’re not filling any out?”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I gave her some special coffee that’ll make her forget anything from the past few hours.”

 

“Special coffee?”

 

“Dude,” Pidge shook her head at him as she popped her pills into her mouth, speaking around them, “don’t ask. Allura could make you forget your own name if she wanted to.”

 

Allura chuckled, taking the empty cups after Lance popped his own pills, “you say that like I’m a cartoon villain.”

 

“I’ve seen you do some crazy shit.”

 

“Don’t scare poor Lance,” she winked.

 

“Yeah, poor Lance has had enough crazy shit today thank you,” he added after washing down the meds.

 

“Well, the worst part is over. Come on, we’re leaving.”

 

The trio made their way through the building and out the back, avoiding Rosie, and hurriedly crossing through the parking garage to pile into Allura’s tiny black BMW. The car was quiet as they cruised through the city streets, Pidge falling asleep spread across the backseat like a starfish while Lance let his head fall against the window. He found himself in a strange sort of daze, the colors and lights outside of the window seeming to blur together as they drove.

 

“Are you okay, Lance?”

 

“Fine,” he managed, blinking a few times, “I think I’m just tired.”

 

“You’ve had a rough day,” Allura nodded, “it stands to reason that it would tucker you out. We’ll be there shortly, but feel free to take a nap.”

 

He had to wonder if he was feeling the effects of whatever she’d given him, but quickly pushed it aside; they’d only been in the car for about ten minutes. Lance allowed his eyes to close and he quickly fell into blissful unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance woke up immediately once the car stopped moving and the heater was cut off, blinking several times against what seemed like giant spotlights all around them.

 

“We’re here,” Allura smiled, unbuckling her seatbelt before leaning back to give Pidge’s snoring form a few sharp pokes, “let’s get inside.”

 

Drowsily, Lance fumbled with the clasp of his seatbelt and slowly let himself out of the car, pausing for a moment as he looked around the property.

 

“...Am I still asleep, because this has got to be a dream,” he muttered.

 

They were standing on a paved drive that looped back around to a large, wrought iron, fence behind them. Atop a meticulously manicured lawn stretching at least a few acres sat a towering three story manor framed by a turret at each corner. Grey stone decorated with beautiful stained glass windows and elegant, clinging, ivy, the home stood as a picture of artistic antiquity. Tall, bright, bulbs beamed through the darkness atop a series of lamp posts that framed the driveway.

 

“You’re not dreaming,” Pidge yawned as she climbed out of the car, “this is Shiro’s place.”

 

“How the hell did he afford it? What is he, a Duke?”

 

“He’s a doctor, but this estate has been with him for a long time.”

 

“Passed down from family?”

 

“You could say that his bloodline built it.”

 

Something about the quirk of her lips unsettled him, but he shook it off. Following Allura up to the door, he couldn’t help but marvel; it was a gem, truly, and to see such a place in the flesh sent a shiver up his spine. She gave a few quick raps of her knuckles and the door was quickly opened by a tall, broad, man. Next to the black and white prosthetic arm that began at the center of his right bicep, his hair was the second most noticeable thing about him, black with a white forelock, but the scar cutting horizontally across the bridge of his nose came in at a close third. He immediately held the door wide, motioning them inside.

 

The foyer was massive and breathtaking, the most prominent feature being a grand staircase with a flared bottom step that wound its way up two stories. Cherry mahogany and cream detailing met his eyes all around, and the warm tones combined with the photos of smiling faces lining the walls lent the home a lived in, friendly, feeling despite its massive size. Multiple pillars lined the walls on both sides of them, rising to meet the banisters on the second and third levels. Two large double doors sat between the second and third pillars on both sides.

 

“I’m glad to see that you’re in one piece,” the man said to no one in particular as he shut and locked the door behind them.

 

“We’re fine.”

 

“You are an awful liar, Katie,” the man sighed, looking pointedly at her bandaged arm before turning his grey eyes onto him, “but at least you kept him in one piece.”

 

“I’m not really the one to be thanking for that.”

 

“According to him, you did fine. You should head upstairs and get some rest; I need to have a word with our new friend.”

 

“Yes, _mom_ ,” she yawned again, making a face when he settled a hand down on top of her mussed hair and gave it a good ruffle.

 

Lance watched her make for the staircase, moving to the right of it so that she could grasp the bannister and let her injured arm hang at her side; she really was something.

 

“I’m sorry,” the man said suddenly, pulling his attention back to where he stood beside Allura, “I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Takashi Shirogane, but everyone just calls me Shiro.”

 

He offered him his right hand which Lance took in his own for a firm shake.

 

“I’m Lance McClain, and I have a giant list of questions that I need some answers for.”

 

“We thought you would be the best to talk with,” Allura told him, “but you might want to make sure he sees his friend first.”

 

“Oh, right. It’s nice to meet you, Lance, and I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. I’ll clear up what I can but Allura’s right, your friend has been wanting to make sure that you’re safe. He’s in the den, I’ll take you to him; follow me.”

 

Shiro led him towards the doors at the left of the area, holding one open for him and Allura to slip through. Den seemed like a modest word for the room he was led into. They were met with the sounds of simulated gunfire as they entered, the large flat screen mounted just above the mantle of a crackling heart alight with what Lance recognized as Battlefield and, on an oversized black leather sectional, aggressively smashing at the buttons of his controller, was Hunk.

 

“Well, it looks like you made yourself at home,” Lance commented, leaning his arms on the back of the couch.

 

Hunk nearly threw his controller in surprise at the sound of Lance's voice, immediately turning to him.

 

"Lance! I'm so glad to see- Wait, what happened to your forehead? Are you alright? What happened to you? I told you that you shouldn't have been walking around the streets at night and that it was dangerous but oh no-"

 

"I'm fine, Hunk" Lance chuckled, holding up a hand to stop the steady flow of words, "it's not really a big deal."

 

He was still wrestling with himself over whether or not he should tell him what had happened to him, but for now he'd keep it to himself; there was no need to worry him unnecessarily if he could help it.

 

"Well, it has to be a big deal since the guy from the bar came to get me and told me that you were going to be staying here after you got into a little accident. He said it would be better for you if I came with you."

 

"Yeah, I'd feel a lot better with you here."

 

"How long are we staying here? What about the other place?"

 

"I honestly don't know. I'll tell you a little more in the morning, okay? I'm beyond tired and I need to talk to our host."

 

"Okay, if you're sure that you're okay."

 

"I'm fine, go back to your video games."

 

"Oh, thanks again for being so kind, Shiro," Hunk smiled, "and for taking care of my friend here. He tends to get into trouble so it's good to have someone else helping to keep an eye on him."

 

"I'm an adult, not a puppy," Lance mumbled, much to Shiro's amusement.

 

"Not a problem, Hunk. It's my pleasure. I'll take you up to your room, Lance."

 

"Sounds good. See you later," he nodded to his friend, who held up a hand in acknowledgement, before he followed Shiro through the door they'd just come through and up the staircase.

 

"Thank you for taking care of him, I was worried that something might happen."

 

"Of course. I would never allow anyone to come to harm from those creatures if I could stop it."

 

"What exactly are those creatures," Lance asked as they stopped at the second floor and veered off to the right, "I mean, do they even have names? Or can I just call them nightmare demons?"

 

Shiro laughed, turning to beam him a grin before gesturing down a long hallway.

 

"Nightmare demons isn't half bad, but we just call them scouts. There are many different kinds of them, too many to name individually, but they all serve the same purpose and master."

 

"They have a master?"

 

"Yes, and I'll get to that, but we really should cover this in order. Tell me, where did you learn about the dig site?"

 

"The man who raised me consulted on the dig, he was the one who told me about it."

 

"Was he a foreigner as well?"

 

"Yes."

 

"That would explain why he remembers it."

 

"Wait, you're telling me that it happened and nobody remembers it?"

 

Shiro shrugged a shoulder as he moved to open the third door on the left, holding it open for him.

 

"Most of the people who were involved with the excavation were killed and those few who were lucky enough to keep their lives have no memory of any of the events that transpired; we saw to that personally."

 

"Who is 'we' and what do you mean 'personally?' That dig was twenty-four years ago and you don't look a day over thirty."

 

The room that he'd been given was beautiful, furnished in wood tones, decorated in light blues and greens, with an attached washroom and an immense four poster bed that nearly made him weep with joy when he saw it.

 

"Have a seat, Lance."

 

Lance sat on the edge of the bed, nearly sighing in happiness as the mattress molded around him. Shiro took a seat beside him.

 

"I need to see something, if you don't mind."

 

"What?"

 

"If you are who we think you are, then you should have some sort of marking somewhere on your body. It'll look like-"

 

"Yeah," he muttered dryly, "I know what it looks like."

 

Lance didn't hesitate, taking no more than a few seconds to pull of his jacket and dip his fingers beneath the hem of his long sleeve, pulling it up and raising his arms so that the image was visible. Shiro sucked in a deep breath at the sight of it and his lips pulled into a smile.

 

"We have been waiting for you for a long time, Lance."

 

"Way to not sound creepy or ominous, I _totally_ haven't had enough of that shit today."

 

Shiro chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

 

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to frighten you."

 

"Okay, I'm going to tell you what I was told and then I want you to fill in as many gaps as you can, including who the hell you people are and why the hell that thing attacked me. Sound good?"

 

"Okay, let's hear it then."

 

Lance took a deep breath and then dove in, recounting everything that George had told him from memory. He added the details from the page that had been with him at his birth, including the names of his parents and the paper that had born the symbol he wore as well as the single word, 'keeper.' Shiro listened with rapt attention, his only motions being the occasional nod.

 

"-And that's when I decided that I needed to come to Scotland and figure out if I could find any truth to what he'd told me. I knew that parts of it couldn't possibly be true, like the glowing letters and some crazy guy running out of the woods with an orphaned child, but I needed to see if I could find information. So I came here looking to see if I could find anyone who was a part of the excavation or knew anything about it. Of course, all I found was a creepy old guy and trouble. That's all I've got."

 

Shiro nodded, "I think I've got the picture, but I need you to know that some of what I'm going to tell you will upset you and some parts of it you'll probably think are absolutely insane."

 

"Dude, I was almost killed by a monster wearing an old guy; _try me_."

 

Shiro's smile faded the smallest bit.

 

"When I said 'personally' I meant personally. After what you've seen tonight, you should know that there are things out there that defy imagination. We, myself included, belong in that same category. Tell me, Lance, what do you know of the Fae?"

 

"Only what I've learned through research. Many of my stories involve the fair folk, mainly of Celtic lore."

 

"You write of Fae?"

 

"I'm an author, I go by the pen name Blue McClain and I tend to gravitate towards mythological high fantasy."

 

"Ah, I know exactly who you are, then."

 

Lance knit his brows, "you do?"

 

"Yes, and I'll get to the reason why in a moment. I ask about the Fae because my companions and I are part of the court of Seelie Fae."

 

"Okay."

 

Shiro blinked a few times, narrowing his eyes.

 

"Okay?"

 

"I was chased by a guy wearing an old man like a jacket. Fae is the least worrisome thing I've had to deal with today. Keep going."

 

Truthfully, Lance just assumed that he'd either hit his head too hard when that panther had body checked him into the wall or the pills that Allura had given him were starting to take effect.

 

"I can tell you why your parents were killed."

 

A knot formed in Lance's throat as he thought about whether or not he really wanted to know.

 

"Okay," he forced out, "why?"

 

"Fae are forbidden from intermingling with humans unless given express permission and, even then, the only Fae allowed such leeway were those of a higher caste. The reason for this is simple; a halfling child possesses strength beyond what either sides possess. I'm sure that you know that Fae are immortal, yes?"

 

Lance nodded.

 

"Halfling children are the only beings capable of killing Fae. You see, the halfling children were born with purpose during the times of peace during human and Fae. They existed as mediators and keeper of shared lore between our two great kingdoms. They held the gift of long life and the ability to take life from the immortal, two great strengths. As well as that, each child also possessed something uniquely theirs. Peace lasted for nearly a millennium before the other half of our court, the Unseelie, decided that they would rather rise over humans than coexist alongside them. Humans didn't see fae in shades of faction, so when the Unseelie rose up and began to enact violence upon them, the humans retaliated upon all Fae regardless of loyalties. The Unseelie found the halflings to be abominations, tainting the blood of a perfect race. The general public knew nothing as our alliance was privileged information only shared between the highest levels of your government; all they knew was that there was a rise in crime, mostly in murder."

 

"But I thought only halflings could kill fae?"

 

"Halflings were privileged with information known not even to us, meaning that they had the special ability to mark certain metals with runes that would, upon piercing any Fae, render them mortal."

 

"So, I guess the humans were convincing the halflings to work for them?"

 

Shiro's laugh was bitter.

 

"Convince? No. Humans forced them into creating weapons and those who didn't agree were either killed or tortured into submission."

 

"Jesus..."

 

"It was a bloody, horrible, war. Finally, the Seelie remaining beyond this realm in our homeland decided there was only one option; to seal the gateway between our realms before the humans could send the halflings through to kill more of us."

 

"But you're here?"

 

"The problem was that many of us lived here and made our lives among humans, alongside them and, if they sealed the gate, then we would be stuck here."

 

"But if you lived here already, what's the problem?"

 

"Fae are only immortal so long as we are connected to our home. With the gateway closed, we are slowly becoming mortal. For many, that is a fate worse than death."

 

"Okay, so what about the rest of the halflings?"

 

"The Unseelie killed them, any that they could find in addition to their parents. In their eyes, the Fae that laid with a human was just as wretched as the child. Your parents were killed because your mother was Fae, and bearing you meant that you would be a halfling, also known as Keepers.”

 

“Coimeádaí síochána,” Lance mumbled.

 

“Keeper of the Peace,” Shiro nodded, “that’s what your mother called you, according to what the witness wrote.”

 

“So, I’m half fae?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And all of you are fae?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay, so I get all of what you’ve told me, but what I don’t get is why I’m important to you.”

 

“As a Keeper, you alone possess the knowledge that we need to open the gate back to our home. The gate is also known as the Traveler’s Pass. Those who attacked you were servants of the Unseelie, who see you as a hit against their pride rather than the chance to return home.”

 

“Is it such a bad thing to stay? You seem to have lives here.”

 

“Because we were forced to have them here. Some of us have families on the other side of that gate, families we may never see again. With each day that the gate remains closed we lose a little more. After we become mortal, the separation from our home will kill us, Lance. We will die. You saw Pidge’s wound. If we were connected to our home, if the gate were open, she would have healed almost instantly. Instead, she has to suffer.”

 

“Am I the only halfling?”

 

“Honestly, I’m not sure. After what you mentioned about getting a postcard, and what Keith told me about the similar note Pidge received, I think you might be one of two. Of course, it’s hard to know for sure.”

 

“So, you want me to figure out how to open the gate?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What if I can’t?”

 

“You can, Lance; it’s part of who you are.”

 

It was instant and unbidden, the dry laughter.

 

“Part of who I am? I dont even know who the hell I am, how am I supposed to help you?”

 

Shiro’s eyes were soft as he lifted a hand and placed it on Lance’s shoulder, letting it slide back when he jerked away from his touch.

 

“I’m sorry, Lance. I know that this is a lot to take in. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll have your bags brought up and then you can sleep and sort through this in the morning.”

 

“Definitely not the worst thing I’ve heard today.”

 

Shiro stood from his place and crossed to the door.

 

“Wait.”

 

He turned.

 

“Yes?”

 

“What do you know about my stories?”

 

“The most important thing is that they aren’t just stories, Lance; they’re detailed accounts of fae lore. You’ve been writing the tales of our people and detailing our history.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. A Rude Awakening

Lance could only stare at the door as Shiro closed it quietly behind him, his part words echoing around his mind as the soft ‘click’ of the latch sounded. He had sat quietly and listened as he’d spoken, soaking up the information he was sharing, and yet he hadn’t felt nearly as lost as he did with those words. The only thing that had kept him sane when he’d been under Helena’s roof, the only channel for his turbulent emotions, had always been his writing and now he was being told that none of what he’d written was his? 

 

He wondered, swallowing against the knot of pain in his throat, if he could write at all. If he’d just been penning fae history, did he even have the capability to write his own stories? Even though it had meant little to his family, writing had always meant the world to him. When he was telling a story he felt a million miles away from his worries, and there had been several times during hardships in his life where writing was the only thing that got him through. It felt like losing a piece of himself, the one part that he’d always had pride and been confident in. Everything that had happened to him was beyond imagination, it was still possible that he was lucid dreaming after all, but the thought of losing the right to call his writing his own? Who was he without the best part of himself?

 

It was happening before he knew it and by then it was too late for him to stop. The tears fell over his lashes, one after another in steady succession, and trickled down his cheeks as he let his head fall into hands. In a day, a singular period of twenty-four hours, his entire being had been stripped bare. He felt raw, naked, and bruised. Biting his bottom lip against a lone sob, he just sat there on the edge of the bed in silent misery, cursing every deity he could name. It was all just too much for him to handle, too much for him to bear with a smile. The events of the day seemed to finally hit him, all at once and entirely too intensely, and Lance’s arms fell to wrap around his midsection, almost as though he were trying to hold himself together as he convulsed with soft sobs. 

 

The door flying open caught him off guard just then, causing his head to jerk upwards and reveal his tear streaked face to his intruder. Keith paused mid-step in the doorway, eyes growing wide as his gaze flickered over Lance’s wet cheeks. 

 

“I, uh,” he started, clearing his throat, “I’m sorry, I should have knocked. I brought your luggage up for you.”

 

Lance’s actions were immediate, his hands rubbing across his face to do his best to discard any evidence of his distress. He did his best to force a smile, but he knew by the way that Keith’s mouth dipped into a frown that it wasn’t the least bit convincing. 

 

“No, it’s fine,” Lance shook his head as Keith rolled the bags in and sat them just inside the room, “thanks.”

 

“No problem…”

 

There was an awkward silence as Keith stood still in his place, looking over him.

 

“Are you okay,” he asked quietly.

 

Gulping, Lance forced his pitiful smile a little wider.

 

“Are you,” he countered, nodding towards the three new long, thin, scratches that began beneath the right side of Keith’s jaw, crossed his throat, and then cut diagonally down to his left collarbone before they disappeared beneath his black t-shirt,“those are some nasty new souvenirs you’ve got there.”

 

The scowl that Lance had begun associating with him came back at full force; he almost laughed.

 

“Do you always deflect like that?”

 

“Almost always,” he answered honestly.

 

Keith’s brows knit and he gave a slight shake of his head.

 

“How are people supposed to know how you are?”

 

Lance couldn’t help his bitter chuckle as the smile fell slowly, in increments, from his lips.

 

“They aren’t.”

 

“That’s a lonely way to live.”

 

“Is that spoken from experience or just an observation?”

 

“Experience. You know, it’s okay to not be okay Lance. Nobody expects you to learn about all of this and just be fine. It’s a lot to process and you need time.”

 

He knew, from the way that he’d slid his hands in his pockets and was biting on the inside of his cheek, that Keith wasn’t someone used to comforting and reassurance; his awkward stance and unfamiliar kind words were almost irritatingly charming.

 

“I’ve decided that I’ve gone crazy and that this, all of this, is just a fever dream,” Lance chuckled dryly, letting his head fall forward, “this isn’t real. I can’t let this be real.”

 

There was a soft sigh and Lance watched the man’s shadow cut across the floor as he moved over to his side. The mattress gave as he took a place to his left, angling his body so that he was facing him.

 

“It’s real and you know it, you’re just scared. It’s okay to be scared, hell,” Keith smirked, “I think all of us have been there. No one should have to be dealing with what any of us are going through. You have to understand, Lance, that we’re here to help you get through it. We’re here to keep you safe and that’s exactly what we’re going to do, but this is a give and take. You can take time to sort it out, and you can deal with it however you want, but you can’t run away from this, not now.”

 

Lance was shaking his head before he finished. No, it was all just too much. 

 

“No thanks, I don't want it. I’m going to wake up in my own bed and all of this is going to be behind me.”

 

“Look at me.”

 

Lance’s fingers dug into his sides where his arms were still wrapped around himself and he shook his head.

 

“Look at me, Lance.”

 

He felt nauseous as he finally lifted his head and turned to his left, finding himself caught in the sheer intensity of Keith’s direct gaze.

 

“This isn’t a dream and this isn’t going away. Understand?”

 

“It just can’t be real, Keith. It can’t be.”

 

Both of them heard his words for what they were; a plea. Keith let out a heavy sigh before he reached over to take Lance’s right hand from his side, pulling it up to force it flat against his throat. Beneath his touch, Keith’s skin was hot. The wounds were still angered, red and inflamed, and they pushed against his fingers with every beat of his heart. Lance couldn’t look away from him, almost hypnotized. Like when he’d leaned towards him at the pub, he found himself captivated and unable to look away.

 

“You feel that, my scratches? These are real. Pidge’s arm? Real. That thing that we stopped from killing you? Real. I know that it’s not easy to believe, but you don’t have any other choices. The reality, Lance, is that they know who and you are. You will never be safe again on your own until this is over. Sit in here and wallow in it if you want, but I’m not going to let you ignore what’s happening around you. This isn’t a dream and we’ll be here, ready, when  _ you’re _ ready to deal with that.”

 

“Just who the hell do you think you are?”

 

Keith’s eyes narrowed when Lance jerked his hand from his, pointing a finger and shoving it, hard, into his chest. 

 

“Just who the hell are you to tell me what you’re going to let me do? I have a news flash for you, I don’t live to obey. I will do what I want, when I want, and there’s nothing that you’re going to do to stop me. If all you have are threats, shove them up your ass and get out of my face. I’ve had enough. I didn’t come here to be ordered around, I came here for answers. Now that I have them, what I do next isn’t up to you.”

 

Lance realized that it was a mistake the moment the words burst through his lips, but after they’d begun there was no stopping them. The anger, the helplessness, and the fear had all merged into one furious, blind, beast that swung at everything and anyone in it’s path; it was unfortunate for him that Keith was it’s first victim. It was too late to recall the words and Lance could only gulp as the man’s expression darkened. It was so quick that he barely even noticed the movement, half a second flickering by in a blink. He had been staring at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, in response to his word vomit, and then the next thing he knew he was on his back. 

 

Keith’s left hand held his throat in a firm grip as he pushed him into the mattress, tight enough to get his point across without cutting off his air. The fingers flexed against his skin, as though he were having trouble keeping himself from crushing his windpipe. He rose over him, his right hand pressing into the bed just beside Lance’s right temple. Keith’s hair, unbound, fell around his face as he lowered his head, the dark strands filtering the light between them when he finally stopped; the pair was nearly nose to nose. Lance could barely breath and it had little to do with the hand around his neck; the air around Keith seemed to crackle, his presence suddenly seeming larger and more imposing. The corner of his upper lip curled just as a deep growl rumbled up from his chest. There was a distinct familiarity in the sound and the realization came to Lance only when a stray beam of light pierced through the curtain of hair to glint off of a bared canine. 

 

“I’m the man who nearly got killed for you, that’s who the hell I am,” Keith grumbled, his voice an octave deeper than it had been before, “and I won’t be the last. You came for answers? Well, you got them and now we have to run damage control. Good people are likely going to die just to keep you safe. Your actions have consequences and we’re going to be the ones who have to pay for them. So, when I tell you that I’m not going to let you run from this, I mean it. You started this when you came here and, believe me when I tell you that if you get anymore of my family hurt trying protect you and then try to leave…”

 

Keith leaned in, turning just so that he could place his mouth a scant few inches from his ear. 

 

“...well, you don’t need all your limbs to be of use to us.”

 

He let those words settle into Lance’s ear, waiting until he felt him gulp beneath his hand before he began slowly ascending. When Lance met his eyes again, he sucked in a breath; his pupils had slit and his iris’ were the same vivid yellow from the alleyway. 

 

“Think long and hard about your position, Lance,” Keith advised him, running his tongue over his sharpened teeth before they began to retract, “because this is not a dream and I promise you that it is not a game.”

 

He didn’t move from where he lay even after Keith pulled his hand away from his throat, watching him as he stood and silently left the room. Lance laid in that position for several minutes, the events unfolding over and over in his mind. Keith had been the one who saved his life, the one who had kept him hidden from Moggie and given both him and Pidge the opportunity to escape. He opened and closed his hand, the one that Keith had laid on his scratches, the scratches that he’d likely earned going up against that creature after they’d run. As much as he had wanted to deny what he’d seen thus far, deny what he’d been told, seeing Keith change, even the small changes in his eyes and teeth, had taken away his opportunity for denial. Seeing something indescribable in a dark alley, in a strange place, after a few drinks? That wasn’t entirely unusual. Seeing something indescribable up close, in a well lit room, with a mostly clear head? That was a different situation entirely.

 

_ Good people will die. _ Those words, specifically, played on repeat in his mind. He thought about what Shiro had told him about the people from the dig. He thought about what could have happened if Pidge hadn’t been so light on her feet, or if he’d had Hunk with him on that impromptu walk. Lance thought about the parents that he’d never known, would never get to know. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Keith was right; _he_ had started this.

 

* * *

  
  


Beneath the streets of Old Town, nestled under cobblestone and asphalt, a city of ghosts and ruin was alive with fear. Despite the number of creatures lurking just beyond the reach of the scattered candles’ flickering flames, the narrow hallways and crumbling arches were surrounded by silence. The warm tones of candlelight contrasted against the ungodly cold, bouncing off of the stone to cast their beams around the vault. The smell of damp stone and mold filled the stagnant air already pregnant with anticipation and anxiety. 

 

“Bring him.”

 

His tone was as dark and forbidding as the alcove he sat in as he crooked a finger, beckoning the hooded figure in front of his niche forward. Long, limp, strands of white hair slithered out from the cowl of the figure’s robe as she held up a gnarled, aged, hand. There was movement behind her as she pushed her hand forward, palm radiating a pale purple light as another figure stumbled forward from the darkness. 

 

“This is the one, Lord Zarkon,” the woman rasped, clenching her hand and pulling it up.

 

The creature before him howled in pain, it’s long, slender, body bowing backwards with the motion of her hand. It’s tongue darted out from between two rows of sharp teeth, sliding across where it’s lips had been as the sharp digits of it’s right hand scratched feebly against the cobblestone floor. Tattered bits of the body it had been using as a disguise still flapped at it’s waist, though most of it looked to have been cut away in struggle; only a portion of a torso, half of a scalp and small tufts of white hair could be made out. It’s left arm hung uselessly at it’s side, almost completely severed from it’s body at the shoulder, and there were deep gouges across it’s back. Black, dried, blood painted most of it’s pale form.

 

“So,” the man in his niche drawled, “this is who thought to assume my wishes?”

 

“This one,” the creature hissed as it twisted it’s head towards the sound of his voice, “only meant to serve Lord Zarkon; only meant to… help.”

 

“Help?”

 

“Yes-”

 

There was a loud screech as the toe of Zarkon’s boot connected just beneath the monster’s ribs, the telltale ‘ _ crack _ ’ of splintering bone echoing around the space. Labored pants left the scout’s mouth as it tried to right itself, forcing it’s broken body back into a kneeling position with no small amount of effort. 

 

“Why was I not informed of the whereabouts of the halfbreed immediately?”

 

It was clear that it took a great deal of effort to control his anger, his voice practically vibrating with fury.

 

“He must die. This one sought only to take care of it for you, My Lord.”

 

“You have overstepped your bounds,” Zarkon barked, large hands fisted at his sides, “I need him  _ alive _ .”

 

“Apologies, this one will bring him-”

 

“No.”

 

It’s head swivelled sharply to both sides, knowing what was to come next.

 

“My Lord-”

 

“The time for talk is over.”

 

“No,” it rasped, trying to get to it’s feet, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough.

 

Zarkon let out a sharp, high, whistle and, within seconds, there were small, sharp, taps emanating from the shadows. The hands that reached out of the darkness were so human-like that the creatures might have been mistaken for children if the rest of their body hadn’t been so horrific. Past the shoulders, they became even more disturbing. They wore the loose faces of recent kills, several eyes peering through holes in the dissected faces. Long, black, fangs reached through the gaping hole of the masks’ mouth. The pair scurried out of the dark atop eight spindly spider legs, practically flying across the floor of the vault. With arachnid-esque bodies the size of mastiffs, they stabbed their limbs into Lance’s attacker, their front arms reaching forward to begin tearing at it’s flesh and bringing chunks of the howling monster to their mouths. 

 

The witch stepped forward, skirting the feeding spider children, and bowed low before where Zarkon had retaken his seat. 

 

“Allow me to send out my own servants, Lord Zarkon; I will find the boy and bring him to you.”

 

He watched his pets as they ate the creature alive, it’s cries dying away as it stopped struggling. Zarkon’s vibrant lavender gaze lifted.

 

“Do not disappoint me, Haggar.”

 

The woman bowed again, lower.

 

“Never, My Lord.”

  
  



	7. Down to Business

Lance woke the following morning to the humming of a jaunty tune and the sound of the door creaking open. He opened one eye and immediately groaned, pulling the blankets over his head as his intruder flipped on the lights.

 

“Why,” he whined, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

“Time for breakfast, Mr. McClain,” the man informed him in a tone that was far too chipper for morning.

 

“What time is it,” he asked groggily, pulling the comforter down just far enough so that he could get a peek of the man.

 

Dressed in black butler’s uniform brightened by a vest and tie of sky-blue, the man grinned down at him from beneath a thick orange mustache that matched his edged sideburns and the slicked hair that flared out at the back of his neck. In his white-gloved hands he held a tray laden with eggs, bacon, baked beans, buttered toast, scones, and a cup of tea.

 

“It’s seven-thirty, of course. Breakfast is at the same time every morning.”

 

“Great,” Lance drawled with a petulant pout, giving up any ideas about going back to sleep as he tugged the blankets down to his waist.

 

“Once you’re finished, I suggest you make your way downstairs. I believe you’ll be needed sometime soon.”

 

“Needed? For what?”

 

“‘Tis not my place to say. Enjoy your breakfast.”

 

The man gingerly sat the tray atop Lance’s lap and gave a slight bow before he quietly left the room. Lance looked down at the steaming goodies on his tray before giving into the temptation of perfectly crisped bacon. His sleep had been troubled, his dreams haunted by glimpses of alleyways and yellow eyes. Frowning, he finished the strip of bacon and moved onto the butterscotch scone. No matter what frame of mind he had been in the previous night, he had been feeling uneasy ever since the exchange that he’d had with Keith. Trying to start a fight with the man who had saved his life was certainly not ranking high on his list of best ideas.

 

After resting, his mind felt clearer though he still had to remind himself that he hadn’t dreamed any of what had taken place. He was eating breakfast in Scotland, lazing in house full of supposed mythical creatures. Lance couldn’t help a tiny, amused, chuckle as he chewed. Honestly, he might have been tempted to try to forget everything from the previous night and run back home to the states if it weren’t for the parts of their stories that he couldn’t deny, like the mark on his skin or the lengthening of Keith’s fangs that he’d witnessed entirely too closely. No, he owed it to himself and the family he’d never gotten to know to find his purpose, and if that meant sticking around, then that’s what he’d do.

 

Lance cleaned his plate before he sat it on the bedside table and then slid out from beneath the blankets; he’d been so tired that he’d fallen asleep in his regular clothes. He padded over to where Keith had left his suitcases and dug through the biggest for a pair of jeans and an olive, cable knit, sweater. Tossing the clothes over his arm, he went to explore the adjoining bathroom. The first thing he noticed when he caught his reflection in the ornate golden-rimmed mirror over the sink was the stark white of the bandage on his forehead. With careful fingers, he peeled away the tape holding the bandage to his skin and hissed at the sight of the stitches; there was a little sting as he replaced it.

 

He made himself at home and began a shower, stepping into the warm spray and trying to remember not to get his bandage wet. He made quick work of the dirt and grime from the previous night’s misbegotten adventures, cutting the relaxing shower much shorter than he might have anywhere else. After changing and tossing his dirty clothes into his smaller luggage bag, he turned off the bedroom light and let himself out into the hallway. The wooden floor was cold against his bare feet, making him thankful each time he passed over an area rug in the hallway. Doing his best to remember the way, he followed the hall to the stairway and, once he’d hit the landing, made a right into the room where he’d reunited with Hunk the night before.

 

“Ow! That burns!”

 

Lance’s hand paused on one of the two doors leading into the den when he heard Keith’s voice, angling his head so that he could peek through the crack.

 

“You are such a baby,” Allura sighed as she dabbed a cotton ball at the scratches on Keith’s throat, “just sit still and let me clean them. You never take care of yourself.”

 

“I’ll stop moving when you stop trying to clean them with acid.”

 

“It’s alcohol, you idiot.”

 

“I know what it is,” he muttered, dejected.

 

Lance pushed the door open a tiny bit wider and Keith immediately sat up straighter. Allura didn’t seem to pay him any attention as she continued cleaning the wounds.

 

“It’s easier to eavesdrop if you come inside,” Keith called, raising his voice the slightest bit.

 

Lance felt his cheeks redden and his ears burn as the bartender turned to pin the door with a knowing look. _Definitely fits that he’d have heightened hearing_ , he huffed to himself. Rolling his shoulders and puffing his chest out, Lance pushed open the door and did his best to give a nonchalant shrug despite the burning in his face.

 

“Well, if you insist.”

 

Allura beamed at him as she finished her task and Keith purposefully avoided even looking in his direction as he took a seat on the loveseat to the right of them.

 

“Good morning, Lance; how did you sleep?”

 

“Just fine,” he lied as he leaned against the arm of the couch, “thank you for asking. How about you?”

 

“Perfectly well,” she sing-songed, “and I’m glad to hear it.”

 

“I hate to be a bother, Allura, but would you mind giving me a minute with Keith? I need to talk to him.”

 

She blinked a few times, her brilliant blue eyes curious as they shifted between the two of them. There was a small, rogue, smile on her lips as she nodded, tucking a few loose strands from her messy bun back behind her ears as she stood and collected the alcohol and cotton balls littering the coffee table.

 

“Of course, it’s not a bother at all,” she assured him, turning to Keith, “and make sure you do what I told you and keep those clean. You don't want them to get infected.”

 

“I heard you.”

 

“Grump,” she chuckled, completely unperturbed as she wove through the couches, patting lance on his shoulder as she passed, “don’t mind him too much, he’s really just a softy.”

 

 _Like a beanbag full of knives_ , Lance retorted internally. After the sound of her footsteps disappeared, Keith readjusted his position, pulling his right leg up on the couch to turn towards Lance. He had to admit, Keith did _look_ softer than he had during their last encounter, bundled in a pair of well-worn blue jeans and an oversized red hoodie, but there was a distinct wariness in his expression.

 

“What’s up?”

 

Lance took a breath before he answered, rubbing self-consciously at the back of his neck. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing.

 

“Look, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you, especially since you were right; you did save my life. I should have been thanking you, but instead I was acting out. I’m sorry.”

 

The moment that followed was heavy with silence as the two of the stared at one another, Lance waiting for any kind of reaction while Keith’s expression remained unreadable.

 

“It wasn’t all your fault,” Keith replied, corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile, “I didn’t want to scare you when I walked in with your bags. It was a tough day for everybody, don’t even worry about it.”

 

“I feel like all I’m going to do is worry.”

 

“Well, I hate to say that it comes with the territory but that’s the truth of it.”

 

“So... We’re cool?”

 

Keith chuckled, “yeah, we’re cool.”

 

There was an immediate flood of relief that filled him at his nod, thankful that he didn’t seem to resent him for what had happened. He let his body go limp against the soft cushions, his muscles beginning the slow process of relaxing.

 

“Hey, Keith?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can I, uh,... Is it okay…. You see-”

 

“Spit it out, Lance.”

 

“I feel like I need to talk to somebody and I get it if you’re not the guy that I should be spilling my guts to, but-”

 

“You can talk to me if you need to,” he interrupted him, “besides, I feel like I owe you after last night.”

 

“You’re not going to show me your teeth again, are you,” Lance joked lamely, trying his best to offset the discomfort and apprehension rolling about in his stomach.

 

“Not unless you really want me to.”

 

“Right,” Lance chuckled, though the sound was small and flat.

 

“What’s the matter, Lance?”

 

He brought his legs up onto the couch, curling up against the arm and folding close as though trying to physically protect himself.

 

“I am _terrified_ , Keith,” he confided quietly, shaking his head at the pathetic tone of his words, “all of this is confusing and huge and somehow I’m in the dead center of it. One day I’m sitting at home writing and then the next day I’m here getting chased by monsters. I feel like Alice trying to navigate her way through Wonderland.”

 

“I-”

 

Keith paused, trying to find the right words. He pursed his lips and stared down at his hands for a minute or two before he stood up and purposefully moved over to take a seat beside Lance on the couch. When he spoke, it was clear that he was doing his best to pick the right words.

 

“I know that it’s new and scary. I know what it’s like to stare death in the face and have people expect you to keep moving forward, but I meant what I said last night. We’re here to help you and we’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

 

“This is about more than that, though. I mean, looking past the fact that the thing that I love more than anything isn’t even mine, there’s still the fact that I brought other people into this thing. Hunk is one of the most amazing people I know and I might have just signed his death warrant. You say that you’re here to help me, but who’s going to look after you? I have to go into this knowing that if I fuck up, somebody dies. It’s... I’m just having a hard time with this and I still don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say to Hunk. How am I supposed to explain any of this to him?”

 

“Like I told you last night, it’s okay to not be okay. We don’t expect you to just wake up and be fine and ready to do this. As for your friend… Do you trust him?”

 

“I trust him with my life,” Lance answered honestly.

 

“Well then, it’s up to you to decide what to tell him.”

 

“I don’t think he’d believe me if I tried to explain any of this to him,” he sighed, “I’m still having trouble myself.”

 

“We’re going to keep both of you safe, Lance.”

 

He didn’t even notice that he’d raised his hand until he was skimming his fingertips over the scratches raking down Keith’s throat, gulping once his movement stilled and his eyes slowly climbed up to meet Keith’s.

 

“Can’t do that if we get you hurt in the process.”

 

Swirling grey iris’ combed his face as Keith reached up to wrap his hand around Lance’s and pull it away from his throat.

 

“I’m stronger than I look,” he assured him, gently placing his hand on the sofa before releasing him.

 

Lance’s breaths were decidedly heavier, the touch of his hand leaving his skin tingling in a way that both alarmed and concerned him. _Why had he touched him? What had he been thinking?_

 

“You look a lot stronger when you have a furry face and big ol’ claws,” Lance joked lamely in a desperate attempt to lessen the tension.

 

Keith rolled his eyes.

 

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

 

“That’s all I’ve thought about.”

 

“And?”

 

“And,” Lance blew out a breath, “I know that I’m in danger and that I can’t go anywhere without getting someone, most likely myself, hurt. I’m not leaving.”

 

It caught him a little off guard when Keith’s full lips pulled up into a genuine, pleased, smile. _Fuck_ , Lance thought to himself as he scanned his face, _he’s pretty._ When he smiled like that, his entire face lit up and it was hard to contain the little flutter that Lance felt beating in his chest in response.

 

“I’m glad to hear that.”

 

“Make me a deal, though?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Next time you turn into a bigass cat, could you maybe give me some warning before you kick my ass into a wall?”

 

Keith’s snort of amusement had Lance grinning.

 

“I expected you to weigh more. I didn’t think that when I hit you, you’d fly off like a ragdoll.”

 

“You are such an ass,” Lance groaned with a laugh.

 

“You’d be surprised how often I hear that.”

 

“I really, _really_ , doubt it.”

 

“Rude,” Keith shot back good naturedly.

 

The two shared a smile, lapsing into a pleasant silence for several minutes before Lance spoke again.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Anytime,” Keith said before turning to look over his shoulder, “did you need something?”

 

Lance turned his head towards where Keith was looking and noticed Pidge leaning in the doorway watching the two of them with a wide smirk.

 

“Well I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she drawled, “but Shiro is calling a meeting and sent me to get the two of you. He also wanted me to tell you that your friend is still sleeping so you don’t need to worry about him.”

 

Between the shit-eating grin she was wearing and the way that her gaze was flicking between the two of them, Lance could practically see the lewd thoughts churning through her mind; they were sitting too close and he suddenly wanted to be anywhere else.

 

“I guess he wants to introduce you to everyone and finish telling you what’s going on,” Keith yawned, stretching and seeming completely unperturbed, “it’s about time.”

 

“Wait, there are more people?”

 

“Just a few,” Pidge shrugged with her good side, “no biggie. Let’s get moving, everybody’s already in the conference room.”

 

“Of course a mansion would have a conference room,” Lance mumbled to himself as both he and Keith got up from the couch and followed Pidge out of the room towards the double doors on the opposite side of the foyer.

 

“How’s your arm feeling?”

 

Pidge glanced back at Lance with a small smile.

 

“It’s okay,” she said as she looked down at the black sling keeping her arm cradled to her body, “whatever Allura gave me is keeping the pain down so I’m fine.”

 

“I’m glad you’re doing okay. I was worried about you.”

 

“I’m scrappy,” she laughed awkwardly, the tips of her ears turning pink, “but thanks.”

 

They wound through the kitchen, the scent of bacon still fresh and hanging about the room, and another living area before they branched off and came to an open door in the corner of the right wing. Pidge led them in. Allura, Shiro, the man who had brought him breakfast, and another man who looked incredibly similar to Pidge were already seated when they walked in. There was a palpable tension in the air, an unspoken worry that seemed to weigh upon the shoulders of all in attendance. Keith shut the door behind them.

 

“Okay, so everyone’s here,” Shiro announced, “you guys take a seat.”

 

Lance took a seat on the right side of a long, mahogany, conference table between Keith and Pidge. There was a large whiteboard behind where Shiro stood at the head of the table, gleaming with the beams of an early morning sun blazing in through the large arched windows that covered the right hand wall and gave a beautiful view outside to the cultivated garden at the side of the manor.

 

“I wanted everybody here to illustrate some points that I’m going to make in addition to letting you know what’s going to be our next step. First,” Shiro gestured towards the two men that Lance didn’t know, “Lance, let me introduce you to Matt Holt, Pidge’s brother, and Coran, Allura’s attendant and guardian.”

 

It was easy to tell who was who when Matt was the spitting image of his sister. Lance nodded and smiled politely to both men who inclined their head in acknowledgement and returned warm smiles.

 

“I’ve already personally confirmed that Lance is a Keeper, meaning that we are one step closer to home.”

 

Shiro pinned Lance with a curious look.

 

“Have you considered where you stand and how you feel, Lance?”

 

He was keenly aware of the eyes of all those in attendance falling onto him. Gulping, he gave a jerky nod.

 

“If I’ve put people in danger then I’m obligated to do what I can to set it right. I’m here to help.”

 

A collective sigh of relief sounded around the room at his words and Lance watched as all of them seemed to deflate. They’d been so worried, holding onto hope while they’d feared for the worst. The tension that he’d sensed upon entering dissipated.

 

“I think I speak for everyone when I say that we’re glad to hear that.”

 

Everyone nodded in agreement.

 

“Now, I’m going to tell you more about the situation but there’s something that must be done first. You’ve taken an incredible risk to come here and by staying you’ve put yourself in danger, but you’ve also given us a hope that we haven’t had in a long time. To thank you, and as a show of solidarity, we are going to bare our true faces to you.”

 

Lance couldn’t help but cringe.

 

“If you tell me that you guys wear corpses like business suits too, I’m going to hurl.”

 

Pidge cackled, “it’s not like that. Look, obviously we can’t run around without changing our looks a little; we’d stand out. There aren’t a lot of physical differences between fae and humans, but they’re obvious enough that someone would notice. Now, there is a level of disguise that all fae can use but they won’t hide you from other fae. Even you, as a half breed, would be able to see through it.”

 

“But you guys don’t look any different to me… Except Coran,” he grinned, “an orange mustache doesn’t really fit in anywhere.”

 

“I happen to like it,” Coran huffed, though the corner of his lip lifted in a half smile, “my mother thought it was dashing!”

 

“It looks like a ferret is sleeping on your face,” Matt snickered.

 

“Anyway,” Pidge rolled her eyes, “Matt and I created a device that we wear that helps enhance our ability to blend in. Even other fae can’t pick us out of a crowd.”

 

He had to grin at the pride in her voice as she winked at her brother.

 

“So, when I tell you that we’re going to show you our true faces, I mean that we’re giving you the most vulnerable pieces of ourselves, the pieces we don’t even let our brethren see,” Shiro explained, “what little power we have is spent keeping ourselves hidden since fae cannot be trusted even amongst our own court. We will not hide from you and we expect the same courtesy.”

 

“That’s a lot of trust,” Lance murmured, “but I won’t keep anything from you.”

 

“It's important that we trust each other,” Allura smiled reassuringly, “and this is the best way for us to show you that we’re serious about protecting you. You trust us, we trust you.”

 

“And all of you feel that way?”

 

He watched as everyone around the table nodded, but he found himself most interested in Keith’s reaction.

 

“We’ve got your back,” Keith nodded, “if you’ve got ours.”

 

“You’ve got it,” Lance said immediately.

 

“Good,” Shiro breathed, “then let’s turn these things off.”

 

Everyone’s device was a little different. For Allura, it was an amethyst ring on her pinky finger that she twisted, while for Shiro it was a black stud in his left earlobe. Matt had a braided bracelet that he used while Pidge wore a matching one on her ankle. Coran’s was his wristwatch hidden by his left sleeve and Keith’s was a black band on his right index finger. Lance watched as they each fiddled with a piece of jewelry. As each person ridded themselves of their disguises, Lance went from being curious and skeptical to flat out awed.

 

Some of the changes were subtle and low key while others were extreme. Matt and Shiro’s changes were the smallest. Neither man’s appearance really changed aside from their ears tilting slightly outwards, the edges coming to a soft point, and their iris’ glowing so brightly that it was almost disconcerting. As he looked around the room at the changing faces, he realized that the ears and the eyes were the physical changes that Pidge had been talking about. Coran’s wasn’t much different either, the only change aside from the glowing eyes and elf-like ears were the addition of an aqua crescent marking just under the corner of each eye. Allura’s change was similar, though her markings were the same rose color that was dotted the pupil of each of her eyes and there was a tattoo on her forehead resembling a thin, golden, tiara that disappeared into her hairline; a sparkling green gem sat just above its center.

 

Pidge and Keith had the most dramatic changes. Though her hair was still long, half of Pidge’s head had been shaved and the exposed skin was covered in a hunter green tattoo that reminded Lance of a circuit board. Once the tattoo traveled down to her neck it disappeared in her grey sweater and re-emerged from the cuffs at the arms to show up on her wrists. The markings traveled across her palms and down each finger, ending with a circle on each fingertip. Each of her pointed ears had about six different piercings dangling from them, and she grinned when she caught Lance looking her over.

 

“Do I still look like a kid?”

 

“A really _metal_ kid,” he snickered, earning a stomped toe under the table and full on belly-laugh from her brother.

 

Keith was the last one he examined and when he looked over towards his left in curiosity, he found himself sucking in a breath. His eyes were now more grey than blue, like morning fog rolling over the ocean, and his pupils were slit. His hair was thicker than before and it grazed his shoulders like a glorious, sleek, mane. It took him a few seconds to notice his ears. Rather than the human-esque elf ears of the others, Keith’s ears were full on feline. Framing his face, his ears were covered in black fur that blended so well into his hair that they were hard to see until they twitched.

 

Lance hadn’t realized he was staring until a few sharp noises drew his attention to the back of his chair; he bit his lip.

 

“You, uh… You have a tail,” he noted quietly as he watched the long, black, tail protruding from beneath the hem of Keith’s hoodie whip across the floor to tap against the back legs of the chair he was sitting in.

 

“Duh, he’s a cat sith,” Pidge said before Keith could comment, resting her chin in her palm, “a special kind of fae that can turn into a big-ass cat, as you’ve already seen.”

 

Lance looked around the room once more at the faces looking back at him. He couldn’t help his response.

 

“You all look really amazing. I prefer you like this,” he said honestly.

 

“You’re too kind,” Allura chuckled, though he could see the pleasure in the brightening of her cheeks.

 

“This way, everything is in the open. Now,” Shiro began again, “I’m going to tell you some things that you’re going to need to know. The creatures, scouts, like the one that attacked you are in servitude to an Unseelie fae by the name of Zarkon. It’s clear by what happened last night that he intends to hunt and kill you. We will, of course, not let that happen. He does not know our faces, with the exception of Allura and Coran, so I don’t expect him to find us, which would make it safer for you to stay here. We’ve taken measures to make sure that Allura and Coran are safe when they’re outside, so you’ll be safe alongside them should you need to leave and require an escort.”

 

“Zarkon is bloodthirsty,” Allura growled, hands clenching on top of the table, “and he will stop at nothing and consider no lengths too far when it comes to getting his way. I’ve seen his actions firsthand.”

 

“Calm yourself, Princess,” Coran murmured, lowering a comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

She relaxed the smallest bit, sighing, “the point is that we know what he’s capable of so we won’t underestimate him.”

 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but did he say _princess_?”

 

Coran nodded at Lance’s outburst.

 

“Allura is the Seelie Princess, daughter of King Alfor who was slain at the hands of that foul beast Zarkon.”

 

“Like all first female fae of the royal family, my life force is tied to that of the halflings. I’m a watcher, the Guardian of Keepers. In the chaos of impending war, I failed to keep him from taking them, but I will not allow him to put his hands on you, Lance,” Allura promised, steel in her voice.

 

“Your life force is tied to mine? What happens if I-”

 

“It won’t happen,” Keith interrupted, “because, like we’ve said, we won’t let it.”

 

Safety had to be his first priority if Allura’s life was tied to his own. His reckless actions, if he were stupid enough to leave, could end up resulting in both of their deaths. It felt like he’d swallowed a bowling ball, his stomach heavy and pained.

 

“Keith is right,” Shiro nodded, pacing in front of the table, “we won’t. If we let anything happen to you then we all die. We barely have any power remaining, what little we have is used mostly to keep up our disguises, and once our powers are sapped we become mortal.”

 

“And once we’re mortal,” Matt picked up, “the only thing we have left is our life force. If that gate remains closed, it’ll kill us when it finishes sapping our power. It’s the only way to make sure that the sides remain closed off from one another and that fae and humans never interact again.”

 

Lance felt his chest throb. There was so much pressure, so much at stake, and yet he had no idea how to possibly help them.

 

“Now, I told you that Keepers possess the knowledge necessary to reopen the pass. It’s safe to say that the knowledge lays somewhere within you, so our next move is to figure out how to draw it out. Does anyone have any ideas?”

 

“Why don’t we go to the dig site? That’s what I was originally going to do anyway.”

 

Lance quickly recounted his story to the group since Shiro had been the only one to hear it, including what his father had said about the man who had given him over and the glowing symbols that matched the mark beneath his arm. They listened with rapt attention, quiet as he finished the retelling.

 

“No one goes out that way much anymore,” Pidge shrugged, “it would be easy to go out and have a look around.”

 

“Since it’s our only lead at the moment, I say that we all go to the site next weekend and see what we can find out,” Shiro nodded.

 

“Wait, why are we waiting an entire week? We can just go now, can’t we,” Lance asked.

 

“No, we can’t,” Matt shook his head, “you guys were just attacked. Those scumbags are still going to be looking for you. We need to give it a little time for the heat to die down before we take you on a road trip anywhere.”

 

“Matt’s right,” Coran nodded, absently twirling the ends of his mustache, “it’s too dangerous right now. Best to wait it out and err on the side of caution.”

 

“They’re both right,” Shiro agreed, “so it’s settled; we’ll go next weekend to the reservoir and see if anything can be found. Until then, Lance, I can’t let you leave the manor without an escort. In fact, I’d prefer it if you stayed within yelling distance of them at all times, just to be safe.”

 

“Who’s going to watch him,” Allura asked.

 

“Ooooooh, I know,” Pidge waved her good arm, “why doesn’t Keith do it?”

 

“Whoa,” Keith turned his head sharply towards her, his ears flattening as he narrowed his eyes, “why am I playing babysitter?”

 

“I’m injured,” Pidge argued with a practiced pout that wasn’t fooling anyone, gesturing towards her arm, “Matt’s busy with the security systems for the manor, Shiro and Allura have research and work to do, and Coran will be busy watching after Lance’s friend; you’re the only one left who literally does nothing around here.”

 

Lance was caught between feeling insulted that he was being referenced to a child and anxious at the thought of being stuck so close to him. Between their conversations going haywire and the way he felt when he smiled at him, Lance sincerely doubted he could handle being stuck in close proximity to Keith for a week straight without going at least a little crazy.

 

“Actually, that’s a pretty good idea,” Shiro nodded thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin while he eyed Keith where he was not-so-subtly shaking his head ‘no.’

 

“I think it would be good for him,” Coran added, “he’s not the most social creature.”

 

“It’s decided then,” Allura clapped her hands together, sealing their fate, “Lance, Keith is your caretaker until we get this situation dealt with.”

 


	8. Touch and Go

The meeting wrapped up quickly after Shiro had made it official that Keith would be Lance’s escort. He had made it exceptionally clear that he would not go _anywhere_ beyond the property without Keith in tow. In agreeing to help them, he had also agreed to follow the rules set for him for his own protection which left no room for argument where Keith was involved. From his place at his side, Lance had practically been able to feel the irritation radiating off of the man’s form in waves and so, when Shiro was finished and released them, he didn’t even spare a glance at him before standing and leaving the conference room.

 

It was hard not to take it personally even though he knew he wouldn’t exactly be thrilled about finding himself in a similar position. _I’m not so bad_ , he thought to himself with a frown as he tried to remember the way back to the staircase, _and it’s not my fault that they picked him to watch me_. He managed to find his way back, immediately climbing the staircase to head back to his bedroom. Just as he was about to open his door, he noticed one of the rooms a few doors down open a few seconds before a familiar face popped out of the doorway.

 

“Hey, man,” Hunk grinned, waving as he stepped out into the hallway in a pair of mustard yellow pajamas so traumatizing to look at that Lance felt offended.

 

“Hey, Hunk,” he nodded, trying to hold back a grimace.

 

“Before you say it, some of us like yellow floral.”

 

“I wasn’t going to say anything!”

 

“Tell that to your face. You look like you just smelled garbage.”

 

“Maybe I-”

 

Lance couldn’t help it, shaking his head and laughing at the ridiculousness.

 

“-no, I can’t even lie. You look like you wrapped yourself in an old lady’s drapes.”

 

Hunk narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips, “is this payback for that old lady comment a few days ago?”

 

“Of course not, it’s just a happy coincidence.”

 

“Jerk,” Hunk rolled his eyes good-naturedly, “anyway, I’m glad that I caught you. I wanted to ask you about last night. Got time?”

 

“Sure, c’mon,” Lance nodded, gesturing for Hunk to follow him inside of his room.

 

Lance leaned against the closed door while Hunk took a seat in the high-backed black chair that was situated between the wall and the nightstand. He didn’t have any idea what to tell him but it didn’t matter so long as it wasn’t the truth.

 

“Okay, so after you went back to the condo, I was walking down a dark side street. Before you say anything, yes, I know it was a stupid idea. I got lost but all the shops were closed and I couldn’t find anybody to give me directions. There was a guy leaned up against one of those corny little antique shops so I asked him if he could help me out and he pulled a knife on me.”

 

Hunk sighed heavily, massaging his temples and closing his eyes for a moment.

 

“Jesus, Lance.”

 

“I know, I know,” he said as he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, “it was stupid to go out alone. Anyway, the guy wants my money but I realize that I left my wallet at the bar. When I try to explain that I don’t have anything on me, he tries to cut me. He managed to cut me once and then I got the hell out of there. I ran the same way I’d come, luckily, and I wound up back at the bar before I even realized it. I went in to pick up my wallet and Pidge and Keith asked me about all the blood on my face. When I told them what happened they said that they didn’t feel right letting us stay out there so they offered to take me to the hospital to get stitches. They were nice enough to offer this place to us if we wanted to stay and didn’t mind people. I was still shook up so I jumped at the opportunity.”

 

Lance rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks color a little with the lie. He’d never been too good at deception when it was a friend that he was lying to.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Hunk said after a minute of quiet consideration, “but I’m glad you’re okay and I’m thankful that you made it back to The Highland. We could have been in trouble if not for Keith and Pidge.”

 

 _You have no idea, buddy,_ Lance thought to himself as he let out a small sigh.

 

“I know, me too.”

 

“So, what are we going to do out here?”

 

“Well, you can do whatever you want but since my research hit a dead end, I think I’ve decided to just relax and enjoy myself. I’ve had too much excitement in the past few days.”

 

Hunk’s smile was warm as he nodded, “yeah, I think that’d be good for you. Just try to get some rest and take it easy, you deserve an actual vacation; you work too much. Not to mention, we’re practically in a freaking castle, man! This is pretty cool. I’m not saying that I’m glad some dude tried to mug you, I’m just saying it’s a pretty sweet condolence prize.”

 

Leave it to Hunk to always find the silver lining in a bad situation. Lance couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

 

“I know, right? It’s awesome.”

 

“It really is, so do me a favor and make sure that you thank Keith and Shiro. Keith was pretty worried about you last night when he came and picked me up, I don't think he got much sleep. Shiro made him try to go rest right before you got here but he came back downstairs and played Battlefield with me for a few hours after Shiro came back from talking with you.”

 

It was impossible to try to stop the snort of disbelief.

 

“Keith? Worried about me? Please, that guy can barely be in the same room with me.”

 

“Well you weren’t exactly showing off your winning personality when you first met and I’m serious, dude; make sure you thank him.”

 

He hated that face, the one that Hunk made when he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. Mrs. Garrett was a kind woman but she had a way with making sure that you knew she meant business and she’d certainly passed those trademark expressions down to her son.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Lance acquiesced.

 

The little flutter in his chest came back to life, beating against his ribcage at how convinced Hunk seemed that Keith had actually been worried about him. _No_ , he thought, _at most he had been worried about losing his chance at getting back home_. Despite that thought, however, he couldn’t help the warmth in his chest and that only added to the irritation that he’d been feeling since show and tell in the conference room. He needed to clear his head.

 

“Look, I’m going to go have a look around. Enjoy yourself, okay?”

 

Lance didn’t give Hunk time to respond, sliding on his shoes and pushing off of the door before quickly letting himself back into the hallway. Within minutes he was through the hall, down the stairs, then out the front door. Despite the chill as the wind snaked through his sweater and bit at his skin, the sunlight was warm and the scent of sweet flowers hung heavily in the air. In the daylight, the property was no less impressive than it had been the night before. The area was lined with mature alder trees on all sides from what could be seen in the front of the manor, and beside the two large light poles on either side of the gated entrance stood two massive, impeccably trimmed, Junipers surrounded by bluebells. Amidst the dark, lush, green of the grass were several blankets of colorful yellow and purple wildflowers. It was such a change of pace from his own home and yet he found himself at peace.

 

Remembering the sight of the garden from the meeting, he ventured to the left and followed the grey stepping stones leading him from the front door to the garage. He passed by the garage and was met with the sight of a massive garden. From the view out of the conference room windows, he’d assumed that the plants had spanned a length comparable to that of the room, but he had been mistaken. Beautiful bluebells framed the path that wound its way around a large circular pond, the garden winding around the path in a unique semicircle and branching off to follow the line of the house. The sound of the fountain sprayer situated in the center of the water melded with the sound of bird cries and insect hums as it shot a column of water up into the air.

 

Blue, yellow, pink, and red blossoms spread across the space alongside fruit bushes and vegetables all around him and decorative cherry trees were spread intermittently through the path, lining it on both sides every ten feet until it branched off towards the left where a large white gazebo sat overlooking the rest of the property. He couldn’t but admire the color, the beauty, as he slowly stepped from stone to stone and let his gaze wander beyond the tree line to the north where high, rolling, hills rose up to kiss the sky. It was wonder and majesty; it was indescribable.

 

“Hey, Lance.”

 

For all his marveling, he had completely overlooked the man kneeling some twelve feet from his left, nearly against the windows of the conference room. His foot didn’t rise high enough to miss the edge of the stepping stone in front of him, sending him stumbling forward into one of the trees when Matt called out to him and took him by surprise.

 

“Sorry,” Matt grinned, not looking the _least_ bit sorry as he adjusted his glasses with the back of a dirt covered hand, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“Yeah, you look _real_ torn up about it,” Lance muttered as he wiped his hands over his sweater, “and what are you doing in the garden? I thought that you were supposed to be working on some kind of security?”

 

Grin widening in a way that reminded him of Pidge, Matt nodded, “I am.”

 

“You’re working on security while you’re covered in dirt and surrounded by plants? You might have to enlighten me on that one.”

 

Matt pursed his lips and looked off towards the way that Lance had come, as though he were expecting to see someone.

 

“Okay, let me show you something.”

 

Lance knelt in the grassiest part he could find, reluctant to cover himself in similar grime, and watched as Matt took a finger to the stalk of a heavily flowered bluebell.

 

“You’ve probably noticed that these bluebells are situated all around the property, right?”

 

Lance nodded, remembering noticing them immediately when he’d walked outside.

 

“Yeah, especially near the gates up front.”

 

“Well, they’re part of the first wave of security for this place.”

 

Lance did his best to not look amused as he felt, sliding his gaze between the flowers and Matt.

 

“Uh-huh…”

 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t expect you to believe me. Watch this.”

 

Matt began to hum while he slid his finger along the stalk to one of the flowering branches. Beneath his touch, the stalk began to give off a dull glow and, once he touched one of the fragile purple bells, several of the flowers fell to the ground. They laid in the dirt for a few seconds before the stems at their base began to lengthen, culminating in six spindly spider-like legs. Lance immediately scooted backwards as they flew towards him, his eyes wide as he watched the little creatures run straight by him.

 

“What the actual fuck just happened,” he asked, incredulous, as he turned to see them plucking long pieces of grass and feeding them into their bell-like abdomens, “what are they doing?”

 

“They’re taking plant fiber and using it to spin web material. They’re going to run it across the borders of the property like tripwire. It’s rudimentary,” Matt shrugged as he watched over the little flower creatures with a smile, “but they do good work and it makes for a good warning system to go with our more state of the art tech, not to mention that they keep watch on top of the trees and help keep an eye out in places that our cameras might miss.”

 

Lance didn’t even know what to say at first as the flowers disappeared into the foliage towards the side of the property.

 

“How do you know what they see? Are you connected to them?”

 

“Yeah, I’m able to sense them and process any information that they send me. Anything that I help evolve is tied to me.”

 

“That’s amazing, Matt,” Lance said, unable to contain an enthusiastic smile, “how can you do that? Can all fae do that?”

 

“Thanks, and no, they can’t; Pidge and I are Druids.”

 

He knew only what he’d read in researching his previous novels and, after the events that had unfolded, he no longer trusted any of that information.

 

“I only know what I’ve read, so would you mind explaining that to me?”

 

Matt’s eyes lit up and his face was only brightened by the flash of pearly teeth as he grinned, “of course not! Druids are a branch of fae heavily associated with the natural world. We recognize that the essence of life dwells in all things and we’re able to manipulate and cultivate our environment because we understand the nuances energy. Most of the time humans tend to associate us with old dudes with pine staves tripping over their beards.”

 

“So, no staff for you I’m guessing,” Lance guessed.

 

“Hah, no, not for me. Most of us work our power by touch since it’s important that we connect on all levels with whatever we’re manipulating. If I had the full range of my abilities,” Matt told him, pointing to a tree off to their right, “I could make that tree uproot itself and walk over here.”

 

“But since the gateway is closed, you can’t do much,” Lance guessed.

 

“Yeah, and it’s frustrating.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

He meant it. It was hard to imagine being in a world that wasn’t your own and knowing that you would be forced to waste away unless you could find a way back. _No pressure_ , Lance thought with an inaudible sigh. Matt shook his head and gave him a soft nudge to the shoulder with a loosely balled fist, pulling him out of his thoughts.

 

“Don’t be, it’s not our fault, besides, you’re helping us fix it and we really do appreciate it, Lance. I know it can’t be easy for you, so thank you.”

 

His gratitude was shamed him, reminding him of how fervently he had wanted to run, and he could only nod in acknowledgement of his words before he found a way to change the subject.

 

“You know, Pidge doesn’t really seem like the ‘outdoorsy’ type. Druid definitely would not have been my first guess.”

 

“Outdoorsy and Pidge definitely don’t go in the same sentence,” Matt snorted, eyes falling down to where he had begun carefully pulling some loose dirt up around the base of the bluebell, “it’s hard for her to understand the connection between nature, innovation, and technology.”

 

No longer finding the dirt to be worrisome, Lance crossed his legs and leaned forward, enjoying the easy camaraderie and the feel of the outdoors; it was the most relaxed he’d felt since he’d come to Scotland. Matt put him to weeding the area around him before he continued.

 

“The electrical impulses firing through our synapsis’ are no different than the workings of a motherboard; both are impressive and yet one had to give birth to the other. To truly understand and appreciate technology, one must first understand and appreciate the natural world that gave it life. Nature’s blueprints and designs are far more detailed and inspired than any we could hope to dream up. Pidge is so focused on tech that she tends to forget the basis of its being.”

 

Lance remained quiet as they weeded, listening to Matt explain how humans had been using biomimicry to solve problems using solutions hidden in the abilities of plants of animals. From new skin graft adhesives observed in parasites to the way velcro had been created after noticing how burrs traveled, Lance was fascinated both by Matts passion and the truly awe inspiring designs of the world.

 

“So, should I be on the lookout for your little flower spiders? I’d hate to accidentally step on one.”

 

“It shouldn’t be a problem, they keep themselves hidden up in the trees and don't worry, I won't let your friend stumble across them. We won’t let him get into anything that would give away your secret, if you don't want it getting out to him.”

 

“Yeah, that’d be best for now. I just want to keep him safe and I think he might actually pass out if I tried to explain this to him.”

 

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Matt agreed, standing and holding out a hand to help Lance to his feet, “but how about we talk about something else? You’ve had enough doom and gloom. Is there anything that you want to know? I’m done here so how about we walk the gardens?”

 

“Okay, I do have one thing that’s been bothering me.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

Matt carefully stepped through the patch of flowers to get back to the stepping stones and led Lance down towards the gazebo.

 

“You guys know my stories, right? Shiro said he knew my penname, Blue McClain.”

 

“Yeah, we know them.”

 

“If you knew that I was writing fae history, how did you not connect that to me being a keeper? Wouldn’t it make sense that I knew more than regular people?”

 

“You need to keep in mind, Lance, that a lot of authors write stories based off of ‘Celtic mythology’ and most of them are the same recycled stories. We can’t go through thousands of authors hoping to find one or two who fit the bill, you know? Besides, so far your stories have been vague enough to keep us from thinking that you knew more than any other author. Even though I loved ‘ _Midnight Marauder’_ for the story, the tale of Thyr isn’t filled out; you only gave part of the story. You tend to focus on certain pieces instead of writing the entire event, which was good for your anonymity. That’s why we didn’t think much of it. We only knew of it because we do get curious about how humans paint us. We only realized after we’d heard from Keith about you being the keeper.”

 

“Well that clears that up, at least.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“Just one more; does everybody have special abilities? I was going to ask during the meeting but it didn’t seem like it was the time and I didn’t know if that was a rude thing to ask; I don't normally have meetings with fae,” he joked lamely.

 

“It’s okay to be curious, and you do get a pass since you’re half fae after all. Everyone does have something unique to them. Shiro is an incredible healer, but much of his ability was lost when the gate was closed. He still makes his living as a cardiologist despite the loss and he’s become quite good. He’s also an incredible warrior and currently shares the duty of guarding Allura with Coran.”

 

“That’s pretty impressive,” Lance murmured as they entered the large gazebo, taking a seat towards the right side, “What about Allura?”

 

Matt plopped down on the opposite side, paying no mind to the dirt on his overalls rubbing onto the pristine white surface beneath him.

 

“Allura can change her appearance at will and she can communicate telepathically, though both of those take a lot of energy and it tends to really wear on her. If she had a link back to her home, she’d also be able to adapt to any language barrier. The Royal Seelie are incredible diplomats and can blend into any community.”

 

“How about her mustachioed butler?”

 

Matt burst into a bark of laughter, smacking his hand on the banister behind the bench, “mustachioed butler? Dude, do not let him hear you say that or he’ll go off into a rant about the proud tradition of mustaches.”

 

“Experience?”

 

“Experience,” Matt agreed, “and he’s more than an attendant. He’s the best guard for the princess since he can alter pockets of space time. He’s able to open small pockets to hide the princess if he must, though he can’t do it for nearly as long now that the gate’s closed. Shiro has also been sparring with him so the two of them keep pretty sharp as far as physical combative training.”

 

“I’m having a hard time picturing him being dangerous.”

 

“Let him fix you one of his “inventive” dinner dishes and see how you feel. Anyway, I think that’s about everybody since you already know that Pidge is a druid. Most of her abilities are the same as mine though she prefers working with actual electronics. If you ever get to see the capability of Shiro’s prosthetic arm, that’s her handiwork. She’s a whiz with tech. Other than that, all that’s left is Keith.”

 

Lance hadn’t even been aware that he’d been making a face until Matt started laughing again.

 

“What? Somethin’ on my face?”

 

“Yeah, a pretty hilarious expression every time someone says Keith. You two butt heads already?”

 

Lance tilted his head back and blew out a sigh, “we just keep kinda misstepping around each other, I guess. Plus, he seemed pretty toasty at the meeting when they made him my personal ‘escort.’”

 

“He seems like he’s kind of a hard-ass but he’s a really good guy; give him a chance. It took a while for us to find a good working rhythm but it was worth it. He can be a great friend if you give him the opportunity, he’s just really protective of his friends.”

 

It was hard not to recall when he’d had him by the throat. _Protective_ might have been a bit of an understatement.

 

“I don't think being friends is in his list of interests, I think he just wants me out of his hair-”

 

“Speak of the devil,” Matt muttered, clearing his throat after glancing off towards where they’d walked from, “we have company.”

 

With a gulp, Lance turned to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, Keith was stalking across the path towards the pair. Within a matter of seconds his long strides brought him through the garden.

 

You’re supposed to stay where I can keep an eye on you,” Keith glowered when he got to the gazebo, eyes narrowed on Lance.

 

“You didn’t look like you wanted to be on the same continent as me after that meeting, so I came outside to get some air. Besides,” he shrugged, trying his best to come off nonchalant, “I have Matt here with me-”

 

“-who was just leaving,” Matt added as he flashed Lance a grin, “since I have some more, uh, stuff to do. Later!”

 

‘ _Traitor_ ,’ Lance mouthed with a glare as Matt snickered to himself and made back towards the house, leaving Keith and Lance alone.

 

“The point is that I need to be able to have you nearby if I’m going to keep you safe, Lance,” Keith sighed heavily, as though he were trying to explain the concept to a child.

 

“Don’t patronize me, Keith.”

 

Keith stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “sorry, I’m not used to having to be joined at the hip with someone.”

 

“Trust me, neither am I. I know you don't like this anymore than I do… I’ll try not to make it so hard for you.”

 

“It’s nothing personal, Lance,” Keith shrugged a shoulder, “just let me know if you’re going somewhere.”

 

“I will,” he promised, “so, did you need me for something?”

 

“I’m going to need to be at The Highland in a few hours and I needed to make sure I knew where you were before I left.”

 

Despite how he felt about being saddled with Keith, the idea of him leaving didn’t sit well with Lance.

 

“I thought you were supposed to keep an eye on me, how are you going to do that if you’re at the pub?”

 

“Pidge and Coran will be here all day, but the rest of us have jobs. As long as we’re stuck here, we’re just like everyone else.”

 

There was a bitter taste on his tongue as the words rolled, unbidden, from his mouth.

 

“Can’t you just take me with you?”

 

Keith’s brows shot up in surprise.

 

“Uh, no. The whole reason that we’re waiting to take you out until this weekend is to let the heat die down a little. You’re not safe out there, Lance, not even with me.”

 

“Right,” he muttered quietly, hunching his shoulders as he looked down at his clenching hands, “right.”

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Keith murmured under his breath before he crossed the threshold and took a seat a few feet from Lance, “look, everything is going to fine, alright? Nothing is going to happen to you, we just need to take as many precautions as we can. After this week, if Shiro gives me the okay, I’ll let you come with me; how does that sound?”

 

There it was again, that unfamiliar, awkward, brand of comforting.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Neither of them knew what else to say so the only sound between them was the occasional bird call off in the trees for several excruciatingly long minutes.

 

“You said that it would be a few hours before you had to be at work, didn’t you? Why bother looking for me now?”

 

“Oh, I work out before I go in and I’m normally down there for a while before I leave.”

 

An idea popped into Lance’s head.

 

“Would it be too much for me to ask for you to teach me something? I mean, I know you’re supposed to look after me and all but I think I’d feel better if I knew how to protect myself, you know? Plus,” he grinned, “if one of those body snatchers comes after me I want to be able to at least get in a good shot before it tries to skewer me.”

 

Keith snickered, looking over his form, “I don't know, I don't want to hurt you.”

 

“Oh please,” Lance rolled his eyes, “you only managed last night because you went beast mode. I bet I could take you lookin’ like that.”

 

As he’d figured it would, the challenge was immediately met with a spark of pride and a smug grin.

 

“You’re on, let’s go.”

 

He knew it was stupid to challenge him and he had no doubt that, in a fight with Keith, he would almost _certainly_ get his ass handed to him, but it was a good way to distract himself from the very real fear that sat in the back of his mind.

 

The pair of them wound their way back around to the manor and made like they were going back to the conference room. Lance was quiet as he followed Keith to the end of the hall where he was surprised by a narrow staircase that led down into a basement. He was only further surprised when he realized how poor the word ‘basement’ was for where they wound up. Keith flipped on a set of four light switches once they hit the landing and Lance had to cover his eyes at the sudden flash of brilliant florescent lights.

 

Nearly twice as large as his high school gymnasium, the space was only half furnished and there was a distinct separation in the center of the room, the furthest half being covered with blue safety mats while the other was covered in wooden flooring topped with expensive looking exercise machines. Floor to ceiling mirrors lined the entire right hand wall while the left looked like exposed concrete. The room seemed completely sealed off to itself aside from a small hallway that started at the left of the workout area.

 

“Is Shiro Batman,” Lance asked with an air of disbelief as he looked around, nearly missing the bottom step in his marveling.

 

“Watch your step, space cadet,” Keith chuckled as he veered off towards the hall to the left, “c’mon, there’s a locker room in here.”

 

“He has a fucking _locker room_ , because _of course_ he does,” Lance shook his head, following closely behind him.

 

Despite the name, there were no actual lockers in the room they entered. The room was set up, instead, much like a baseball clubhouse with the left side covered in individual cubbies while the right split off to house a row of showers and bathroom stalls. Keith walked over to the second cubby and began pilfering through the bulging black duffle bag sitting on the center shelf.

 

“Here,” he said as he pulled out some clothes and a pair of battered sneakers before handing them to Lance, “put these on. We’re about the same size, I think.”

 

Before he could even move, Keith stripped off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. Lance wasn’t the shy type, he really wasn’t, but the tightening in his gut at the sight of his companion’s sculpted abdomen was so alarming that he had to turn his back to him before he could follow his example and begin disrobing. It wasn’t like him to be so affected by someone’s state of undress, actually, it wasn’t like him to be affected by anyone. Lance was a people person, someone who was used to engaging conversations and tossing a casual compliment at a gorgeous stranger, but he’d never found himself physically drawn to another person so quickly.

 

Miami was full of scantily clad, beautiful, men and women and it was no secret that he was fond of attractive things, he appreciated beauty wherever it could be found after all, however, Lance rarely kept company. Though he was the first to compliment, it wasn’t often that he made an effort to move on his words. Only twice in his life had he ever felt a physical connection and only twice had he ever shared his bed, so the pull in his loins at the sight of a near stranger’s body set him on edge; what was wrong with him?

 

As he tugged on the black t-shirt and matching sweats, he got a whiff of Keith’s scent. It was the same scent he remembered from the bar, a light musk topped with citrus notes; it worked for him, somehow. The clothes were a little baggy, a testament to the slight differences in their builds, but they fit well enough. He didn’t look back at Keith before he left the room, doing his best to keep his eyes on the floor; he didn’t like this development. The mats beneath his feet gave very little as he crossed to the empty side of the room and touched his toes, stretching out his muscles to give himself something to do until it was time to begin.

 

If he’d thought he didn’t like the situation before, he certainly didn’t like it when Keith left the locker room. At the sound of footsteps, Lance pushed up from where he had been kneeling to stretch his thighs and his breath caught abruptly in his throat. Long, messy, bangs fell in front of feline ears as he neared, gathering the thick mane of black hair at the back of his neck before pulling the red hair tie from between his lips to tie it in place. The tight white muscle shirt clung to his frame, riding up the slightest bit as he finished with his hair to show off a sliver of pale flesh adorned by a thin black trail of hair that disappeared beneath the low riding waistband of his grey sweats.

 

“You ready,” Keith asked as he joined him, rolling his shoulders.

 

“Huh?”

 

His eyes narrowed as he looked over Lance and, behind him, his tail twitched, “I asked if you were ready. Are you okay? You look strange.”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Lance blurted before he could stop himself.

 

“I don’t like to work out with my ring on,” Keith shrugged, “it’s hard enough to keep the disguise up when I’m not exerting myself. Does it frighten you?”

 

Lance was thankful that he didn’t seem offended; honestly, what was wrong with him today?

 

“No, after last night it would take a hell of a lot more than a fuzzy set of ears and a tail to scare me.”

 

The flicker of relief he spied in Keith’s eyes concerned him; was he worried about scaring him?

 

“Good. Now, first thing’s first-”

 

Keith tried to remain as stoic as he could as he instructed Lance on how to make a proper fist, ignoring how incredibly soft his hand was in his own calloused ones as he bent his knuckles for him and had him throw a few punches into his hands. It was strange to him that, despite the fact that he’d only seen him without his disguise twice, he didn’t seem perturbed about his appearance after the initial surprise. Even now, after so many years, even some of his closest friends still found themselves glued to his cat like features. He knew it shouldn’t bother him, it was who he was after all, but, after spending so much living alongside humans in a false appearance, he felt like a carnival attraction in his own skin.

 

He focused on showing Lance the best places to hit an attacker, though he didn’t tell him that it wouldn’t help him much if his attacker wasn’t human; best to keep him enthusiastic and interested rather than worried. Lance was a good student, listening to his instructions and doing his best to follow through after a demonstration. After a few different moves, he was starting to get more involved, a smile on his lips as he dodged a few soft hits. He was thin, limber, and quick on his feet.

 

“Okay, now I’m going to show you what to do if someone comes up behind you and pins your arms to your side.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Keith moved around behind him and wrapped his arms around him, locking his hands at his wrists to keep Lance pressed tightly against his chest with his arms trapped. It was mistake and he wished he’d realized it before he’d committed. There was no space between their bodies.

 

“Now,” Keith forced himself to say as he did his best not to think about how he smelled like him, “drop down into a squat, it’ll force your center of gravity low enough so that you’ll be hard to hold on to.”

 

Lance hesitated before he dropped from the circle of his arms.

 

“Then you’ll want to pivot so that you can land a hit against the groin and you’ll keep hitting until you can safely get away.”

 

He held out a hand and helped Lance back to his feet.

 

“You know, you could have just said ‘drop to the ground and hit’em in the junk until they fall over.’”

 

“Whatever works,” Keith snickered, “as long as you get the point.”

 

Lance tilted his head and pursed his lips, looking every bit like a little kid trying to recall something; it was tragically endearing.

 

“So, hit’em in the soft spots and then make a break for it?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“You are a wise teacher,” Lance nodded, obviously biting down on a snarky smile.

 

“And you are a jackass,” Keith replied with a wry smile and a shake of his head.

 

“You’d be surprised how often I hear that,” Lance quipped.

 

“I really, _really_ , doubt it.”

 

He felt his heart do a strange tap dance when Lance smiled at him, bright blue eyes crinkled at the sides as he held out his arms.

 

“Okay, teach, what now? C’mon, I want to learn where I should karate chop a bad guy.”

 

He gave a few sloppy chops to punctuate his words, looking overall ridiculous and annoyingly adorable.

 

“Now,” Keith yawned after shaking his head, “we go shower. I need to get ready for work.”

 

It was disconcerting how the fall of that dazzling smile left him feeling like he’d just kicked a puppy.

 

“Oh, right,” Lance nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, “I guess I forgot. I’ll wash these clothes and then give them back to you-”

 

“Just keep’em, you know,” Keith coughed awkwardly, “in case you want some pointers sometime.”

 

The smile returned with increased wattage, blinding him with its brilliance as he nodded immediately at the words. He seemed to realize how excited he was because he then calmed his reaction and schooled his features.

 

“Yeah, yeah that sounds okay. Maybe tomorrow, or something? If you have time.”

 

He wanted to be vague and leave himself the room to get out of it, but he just couldn’t find it in him.

 

“Yeah, tomorrow, Lance.”

 


	9. Comfort

After their initial session down in the gym, Keith had kept his promise and met with Lance the following afternoon for another lesson in self-defense. Lance was a fast learner and picked up nearly everything that Keith had shown him; it was hard not to feel a little proud of him and his dedication. Somehow, their training sessions became commonplace and the pair met every day in the gym just after noon to work out together before it was time for Keith to head to The Highland. The tense atmosphere that normally surrounded the pair when they were together had almost completely dissipated and it was hard for him to not find Lance’s seemingly boundless enthusiasm charming; he’d even laughed at one of his stupid jokes. It was hard not to look forward to their next work out together.

 

Keith hissed suddenly as cold draught beer overflowed the pint glass and sluiced over his fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d looked forward to something so much that it distracted him when he was working. Grabbing a towel, he wiped his hand and grabbed a clean glass to pour a proper beer, scolding himself under his breath.

 

“Get your shit together, Keith,” he grumbled, carefully tilting the glass before he cut off the tap and moved to hand the beverage to the man at the end of the bar who was watching him with a raised brow.

 

Glancing up at the clock behind the bar, he was thankful that he only had two hours left before he could begin closing up. Normally time would have flown faster as he was used to Pidge joining him halfway through shift and he could always count on her to keep his mind occupied but, since they had to keep an eye on Lance’s friend and she was injured, it was her job to look after him and that meant that Keith was on his own until her arm healed up properly and she could pawn the duty off on someone else.

 

Keith had just turned to wash his hands properly when the door to the pub opened. It wasn’t odd to have visitors show up for a pint near the end of the night, but there was something about the scent that had his eyes raising to the mirrored glass as he rinsed the soap off of his hands. His breath caught in his throat and he felt the small hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. Every cell in his body was on high alert and his teeth ground together as he clenched his jaws. In the mirror, he watched as three large men walked into the pub. Though he knew it wasn’t visible to anyone else, the pronounced purple pallor of their skin and yellow of their eyes gave them away; unseelie.

 

Two of the men took a seat at the head of the bar while the largest looked around the establishment before he walked off to intrude on the solitude of one of Keith’s regulars. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Keith turned and toweled off his hands before approaching the men. Though it wasn’t the first time that he’d found himself serving unseelie fae, there was something about this particular group that had him on edge. The eyes of both men kept shifting across the room as though they were searching for something. Or someone. They were built like rugby players, wide of chest and heavily muscled, with multiple scars on their arms and several across their faces. The constant shifting of their eyes unsettled him, but he did his best to school his features and assume a bored, taxed, expression.

 

“Aye, what can I get you?”

 

“Two Ardmore whiskies,” the redhead answered in a low, gruff, voice, “and some information.”

 

Keith felt his limbs tense.

 

“What kind of information?”

 

The other fae to the redhead’s right pulled out his wallet and slapped two fifty-pound banknotes on the bar top.

 

“I’m looking for a man,” the redhead informed him, nodding at the money his companion had placed on the bar, “and I know that he was over in this area several days ago.”

 

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Keith shrugged, moving to get the two whiskies in a desperate attempt to occupy his hands, “we get a lot of men in here looking for a pint.”

 

“You’ll remember him,” the man promised, “he’s a foreigner from the States. He probably came in a friend. We were told he was given the name of this place.”

 

Pulling his brows together, Keith pursed his lips and made a show out of trying to think.

 

“Sorry, can’t say that remember him,” he shrugged as he handed them their drinks.

 

He didn’t bother touching the notes on the countertop, turning to begin washing several glasses. His eyes slid to the mirror again as he absently washed, gaze finding their cohort who was on his way back to his friends. Keith watched as the man bent, speaking quietly into the redhead’s ear. There was a moment where both men at the bar turned towards the man, asking him several questions and conversing in low tones before the two men seated at the bar slammed back their drinks and stood, leaving the money on the bar. If the pub had been empty, Keith wouldn’t have taken any chances with letting the two of them leave, but as it was, he could only watch as they slid him smug smiles and slipped out the door.

 

Keith remembered when Lance had come to the bar and he specifically remembered that he’d gone to ask one of his patrons about the dig site in West Lothian, the same patron that the unseelie had just spoken too. Discomfort and anxiety swirled together in a messy storm in the pit of his stomach. If they knew that he’d been at the pub and the man had told them what Lance had asked him, then they knew Keith had been lying. He wasted no time pulling out his phone and dialing Shiro. He picked up after two rings.

 

“What’s the matter, Keith?”

 

“I’ve got something important, Shiro. Three unseelie just came into the bar asking about Lance.”

 

He could practically feel Shiro tense from the other side of the line.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“What do you think I said? I told him that I didn’t know anything. The problem is that they spoke to one of the guys that Lance asked about the dig and from the way they were looking when they left, I think they know I was lying. If they know about it, then they probably know that’s where we’re heading. We can’t take him out there-”

 

“I’ll think of something, don’t worry about it. Just stay safe and make sure you check on Lance when you get home.”

 

“Should I leave early?”

 

“No, if those fae know that you were lying they might be waiting to follow you. Act natural and don’t do anything out of the ordinary. I’ll call the house and check up on everyone and let Allura know what’s happened.”

 

“Okay, thanks Shiro.”

 

“No problem.”

 

 

Despite what Shiro had said, however, Keith did nothing but worry for the rest of his shift. He kept his eyes glued to the windows and, when it was time for him to leave, he was very cautious to keep his eyes and nose sharp. From what he could tell, no one was in the vicinity. It was Saturday morning already and that meant that they were supposed to be taking Lance out to West Lothian but, after having those unseelie goons asking about him, he couldn’t imagine actually taking him out there. Keith knew that no one wanted to sit on their hands when they were so close to regaining themselves, but they couldn’t just walk in and hand Lance over if the unseelie knew where he was planning to go.

 

The thoughts plagued him during the ride from the pub to the manor, filling him with unease. When he got home, he walked through the front door and hung his leather jacket up on the rack to the right. He was about to head up to Lance’s room to check on him, as he did every night that he got home, when he paused halfway through the foyer. The sounds of Allura’s laughter rang melodically from the den a few seconds before he heard what sounded like Lance snickering. Curious, he padded quietly over to the doorway and lightly pushed one of the doors open, making sure not to make a sound and disturb them as he walked into the room.

 

“Lance! Your hands are cold,” Allura laughed again.

 

“Allura, if you don’t hold still I’m going to end up painting half of your foot!”

 

Lance was sitting in the center of the sectional while Allura sat to his left with her back against the arm, her legs draped over his lap. He held one of her small feet in his hand and in the other he had a nail polish brush coated in glittery rose gold polish. Allura grinned and turned her head slightly, catching sight of Keith as he walked over to lean his forearms against the back of the couch just shy of the back of Lance’s neck.

 

“Keith! Welcome home,” she sing-songed, smile widening, “how was work?”

 

“It was… Rough.”

 

“Why don’t you sit down and relax then,” Lance suggested, leaning his head back so that he could smile up at Keith.

 

Keith cleared his throat, still unsure how to react when he felt that little flip in his chest that seemed to burst forth whenever Lance was around. The tips of his hair rubbed against Keith’s forearm and left pinpricks and goosebumps in their wake.

 

“No, thanks, I don’t want to interrupt you two. I was just curious.”

 

“Allura was painting her fingernails and I told her I would do her toes for her,” Lance shrugged, resituating and focusing on the task at hand, “I was bored and it’s always nice to get someone to pamper you a little.”

 

“I don’t need pampering just because I’m a princess, Lance,” Allura chided, though her smile was still firmly in place.

 

“I’m not pampering you because you’re a princess, Allura, I’m pampering you because you’re a sweetheart and you deserve to not have to worry about the little things sometimes.”

 

Her smile softened and she reached a hand out to squeeze his shoulder.

 

“Your mother must be proud of you and the kind man that you’ve become.”

 

Keith saw it first, the tightening in his shoulders and the set of his jaws. Lance’s eyes fell to his task and his voice, previously enthusiastic and bright, dulled considerably. His entire aura seemed to darken.

 

“The woman who raised me would only be proud of me if I was actually her blood son.”

 

Allura’s mouth opened and closed and her mouth dipped into a frown.

 

“I’m sorry-”

 

“Don’t be,” Lance pasted on a fake smile and shook his head, dipping the brush into the bottle on the coffee table before carefully painting her pinky toe, “I don't know why I said that and you couldn’t have known, besides, it’s not a big deal. I’m just glad you don’t mind having me around.”

 

“We love having you around! Keith, tell him-”

 

“Lance.”

 

Lance didn’t look up until he finished with her foot, gently setting it down on his lap before he turned his gaze up to him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Keith didn’t like it, that look on his face or the sadness behind his eyes. It was eating him, whatever he’d gone through with his parents, and if Keith knew firsthand what it was like to not have a real family.

 

“Want to go get in a few rounds with me? I want to blow off some steam from work and I could use a partner.”

 

He knew Lance saw through his excuse but he nodded all the same.

 

“Thank you for my nails, Lance,” Allura dipped her head in thanks as he carefully slid out from under her legs, “they look lovely.”

 

“Anytime,” he smiled as he walked around the couch.

 

‘Thank you,’ Allura mouthed at Keith before he turned. With a subtle nod of acknowledgement, he let Lance lead the way down to the basement. It wasn’t hard to see how jerky his movements were as he walked down the stairs or how rigid his limbs were; Keith felt for him. The pair of them didn't speak much outside of their gym sessions but he could only imagine that his position was weighing heavily on him. He thought back to the first day that he had awakened in the manor and his admission of fear. He needed to work off some of his worry and Lance needed to talk.

 

They dressed in silence, Lance turning his back to him as he always did while he changed into Keith’s extra clothes. Part of him wondered if seeing him, the real him, bothered him and if that was why he turned away. When they got out onto the mats, they both took their time to stretch before Keith finally broke the silence.

 

“You know what I said was bullshit.”

 

It wasn’t a question and Lance didn’t look surprised in the least.

 

“You think it was but it wasn’t.”

 

“Take your stance,” Keith instructed as he bent his knees and readied himself for Lance’s strikes, “and what do you mean by ‘it wasn’t?’”

 

“You’re irritated,” Lance shrugged his left shoulder before throwing a right hook towards his eye, dancing away on light feet when Keith retaliated with a swift jab towards his left side, “I know that you were making excuses to get me out of there, but you were only half lying. I don't know what happened but something’s bugging you.”

 

“How would you know that,” Keith hissed as a surprising fast blow whizzed a centimeter past his chin.

 

“You bite your lip when you’re anxious and you have a tendency to do this thing where you cross your arms and scratch at the inside of your bicep. You were doing it when you had your arms on the couch in the den.”

 

“You’d have to be watching me often to see that kind of thing,” Keith thought aloud as he sidestepped another jab, “when would you have time to see that?”

 

“You’re not too bad to look at,” Lance shrugged again, barely ducking out of the way of one of Keith’s kicks, “plus, your tail pretty much tells everybody how you’re feeling. It’s been flicking back and forth and it only does that when you’re thinking about something that’s bothering you.”

 

His words caught him so off guard that he didn’t move out of the way before a fist sailed directly into his gut. Keith felt the air rush out of his lungs even as Lance, with a high pitched chorus of ‘oh, shit’ tried to help him straighten.

 

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry I thought you’d dodge-”

 

“It’s fine,” Keith wheezed, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, “Pidge hits harder than you.”

 

“Oh my god even when you take a hit you’re an ass.”

 

“An ass that’s not so bad to look at, apparently.”

 

Lance turned several shades of red, a blush rising all the way up his cheeks to rest at the tips of his ears. His eyes fell and he took a step back when it didn’t appear that Keith needed his help. Despite the pain in his stomach, Keith couldn’t deny the pleasure he found in those words. It appeared he didn’t turn his back on him for his appearance after all. It had been a long time since anyone besides a drunk patron had mentioned finding him easy on the eyes, and even longer since someone who could see the real him had. He couldn’t help but feel... _warm_.

 

“Why do I even talk to you,” Lance muttered, running a hand through his hair.

 

“Because you know that I’ll listen,” Keith said after a moment spent catching his breath, “and glossing past that gem from a minute ago, I’m ready to listen any time.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Keith.”

 

Lance seemed only too thankful to be let off the hook for his slip of the tongue.

 

“I know you don’t,” he said as he got back into his stance, “but you know that you need to. It’s eating you.”

 

“First off, we’re done for today; you shouldn’t be exerting yourself when your head is somewhere else,” Lance shook his head, pointing a slender finger at him before wagging it reproachfully, “and second, I appreciate the offer but I don’t even like to think about it. The only way I’ll talk is if you talk.”

 

“Me?”

 

Lance nodded, mouth set in a firm line, “I want to know what’s got you wound up.”

 

“Is that what this is? Tit for tat?”

 

“If that’s what it takes.”

 

“It helps if I can work it off physically-”

 

“No, no more working out or you might overexert. You don’t pay attention to yourself enough.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes.

 

“Do you have a better idea?”

 

Lance thought for a minute, drawing his lips to the side as pondered, before he came up with something.

 

“I do, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

 

“That’s a given, but tell me anyway.”

 

“My favorite thing when I’m feeling at my wits end at home, in Miami, is to go get a massage.”

 

Keith felt himself wrinkle his nose and Lance immediately waved his hands.

 

“I’m not talking about a full body massage, I’m talking about a scalp massage.”

 

“No.”

 

“C’mon, Keith, it’s no big deal and it might help you loosen up a little. Don’t be a pussy.”

 

The corner of his lip lifted in a half snarl and he felt the sensation at his gum line as his canine lengthened in response to his irritation.

 

“Oh, sorry. Is ‘scaredy cat’ better?”

 

“I hate you so much, Lance.”

 

“No you don’t,” he beamed, “especially if you didn’t kill me for that gut punch. You know I’m kidding, right? I’d never say that seriously and never around anyone else. Anyway, just let me do this to keep my hands occupied. It helps so I don’t fidget and I tend to do that when I talk about… Well, when I talk about it. If you hate it, you can have anything you want; you name it.”

 

As reluctant as he was to accept those conditions, he didn’t like the sudden falling of Lance’s features as he thought about his troubles. Keith sighed.

 

“Anything?”

 

Lance’s face lit up and a hopeful smile replaced his small frown.

 

“Anything!”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Here,” Lance gestured towards a bench situated against the concrete wall at the left of the gym, “you sit on the mat.”

 

Lance took a seat on the bench, taking advantage of its size to pull his legs up onto the wood and cross them while Keith tried to reign in his apprehension at sitting on the ground so that someone could touch him. It wasn’t that he disliked touch so much as he wasn’t accustomed to it being offered so casually, nor was he used to such cavalier attitudes when it came to touch.

 

“Before I start,” Lance murmured from behind him, “I just want to go ahead and ask if it’s okay if I touch your ears?”

 

Furrowing his brow, Keith turned to look at him from over his shoulder.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Well, there are relaxation methods involving human ears and I figure there might me some for yours too. It’s okay if you don't want me to.”

 

The hesitation, a momentary fleeting of self-doubt in the shifting of his eyes, had Keith biting back a defeated groan as he turned back.

 

“You can touch them, just be easy; they’re sensitive. Now... What’s the deal with your family?”

 

Keith felt his entire body tense as Lance’s hands grazed his hair, fingertips sliding down to comb gently through the mane of hair. The digits made several passes before he let his hands slide deeper so that his fingertips sat against his scalp. Lance didn’t answer for several minutes, busying himself with lightly applying pressure and releasing it in a line up towards Keith’s forehead. It was hard to explain, but Keith found himself wanting to lean into his touch as his fingers journeyed, the pressure and release synchronizing with his breathing. As much as he hated to admit it, it felt amazing. The traitorous voice in the back of his head prompted him to wonder if it was simply the touch or if it was the man behind it that left him feeling such unfamiliar pleasure.

 

“I’ve always really wanted to belong somewhere,” Lance finally spoke up, his voice very small, “anywhere, you know? But I definitely never fit in with them.”

 

“Why not,” Keith asked quietly.

 

“Remember at the meeting when I told you what I learned about how I ended up with George?”

 

“Mmmhmm.”

 

“His wife had miscarried; I think that he figured it had something to do with the crazy stuff that supposedly happened around the site. Anyway, he bribed some people to get me to the States since I didn’t have proper identification. From what he said when he told me the story, I think he just wanted to use me to replace the baby that they lost. I think Helena always resented me, the orphan that was brought to replace her son.”

 

Keith opened his mouth, the platitudes sitting ready at the tip of his tongue, but he promptly closed it. Nothing that he could say would make it better, Lance deserved better than time worn clichés, so he simply listened.

 

“I always tried to do better than everybody else, tried to get the best grades and just be the best kid. I thought maybe, if I did everything right, maybe she wouldn’t hate me so much. It didn’t worth though,” he laughed bitterly, “so I figured the next best thing was to act out. Poor Hunk, I took him with me into some crazy shit. I once stole our neighbor’s yacht in the middle of the night with a six pack of Coors and went island hopping.”

 

Keith chuckled, imagining a wild child Lance at the helm of a boat with his terrified friend in tow.

 

“Sounds like you were a hellion.”

 

“I was, I had to be if I wanted them to pay me any attention. Of course, running a quarter-of-a-million-dollar yacht aground got me _plenty_ of attention. After she finished screaming at me for wrecking her reputation, I was under lock, key, and perpetual silent treatment. When I realized that there was nothing I could do to make them give a shit about me, I focused on writing. I’d always had a thing about stories and you can only read so many before you’re bored of the same old thing, especially with a memory like mine.”

 

Keith couldn’t stop his eyes from closing as Lance’s fingers slid up to his hairline and continued their ministrations, coaxing a sigh from him.

 

“I kept to myself after that and just wrote. Sometimes I would send my story into an online publisher or a contest and it would get an award or two. One of the magazines I had a short story published in helped me find bigger opportunities and before long I had a book deal for my third novel. I thought, ‘this is the way that I finally get them to care,’ since Helena is a professor of classic literature. Turns out she just things my stories are for idiots and I know that because she basically said it straight to my face before I got here.”

 

“They don’t deserve you,” Keith said firmly when Lance paused, a fiery ball of anger swirling in his chest at the thought of such hate directed at a child who only sought the love that was supposed to be promised by their family, “and I’ve read some of your stories. Matt lets me borrow his copies sometimes when he finishes them. They’re great, Lance.”

 

“Yeah,” he snorted, fingers massaging just above his brows, “they would be if they were mine. Turns out the one thing that kept me sane isn’t even my own. Shiro told me that I’ve been writing history, so basically I’m just a walking, talking, textbook.”

 

“That’s not true and you know it. You don’t just vomit up facts and slap a pretty name on it, Lance, you make the story come alive. I’m not a reader normally, I have a hard time sitting still for long, but all of your stories are great. I never have any trouble seeing the scenes or imagining the characters. Just because your stories happen to have happened, doesn’t make your telling of them any less impressive. No one else could have brought them to life the way you do. You are a gifted story teller.”

 

The fingers stilled at his words and Keith felt them shake the slightest bit before they slid back into his hair.

 

“Thanks, Keith.”

 

“You don’t need to thank me for telling the truth.”

 

“But that’s the story, pretty much. I think I’ll always have that part of me that can’t accept that they don’t want me. You always want to be a part of a family.”

 

Keith opened his eyes and looked down at his hands where they lay clenched on his lap. He knew that feeling all too well.

 

“Anyway, enough about me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

 

“It’s been a long week,” Keith breathed, reaching up to pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

Lance’s hands stilled, “is it my fault?”

 

“No!”

 

It took him a half-second too long to realize how forcefully the word had come out and he cleared his throat and added, “no, it’s not your fault, Lance.”

 

He heard the expulsion of a worried breath and Keith mentally scolded himself.

 

“Something happened today at the pub.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, a scowl forming at the mental picture of the unseelie goons from several hours prior, “some unseelie came into the Highland looking for you.”

 

“That’s not a surprise though, is it?”

 

Keith teetered between wanting to lie and tell him the truth; he settled on the truth.

 

“It is, actually. We figured that they would be looking for you but we expected them to be lurking around at night. Zarkon isn’t the type to send out goons in the middle of the day to search for one guy when he has eyes everywhere and that means that he’s really turning up the heat and putting all of his resources forward to try to find you. The fae talked to one of my regulars, the guy you asked about the dig, and then they left. I think he told them what you asked him which means they probably know where we’re heading. I don’t like not being at least five steps ahead.”

 

The unease that he’d been feeling most of the day resurfaced and his tail began whipping across the floor, curling around his ankles as it swept left and right beneath the bench. Lance surprised him, then, by sliding his hands down to his ears. Keith twitched at the unfamiliar touch but forced himself to sit still as lance’s fingers slid along the length of them, tickling the sensitive fur at the tips.

 

“You shouldn’t worry so much, I’m sure it’ll be okay. I trust you guys.”

 

His words were as soft and gentle as his touches as he continued exploring his ears.

 

“You shouldn’t have to try to comfort me when I’m the one who’s supposed to try to keep your mind at ease.”

 

“You can’t be hardcore all the time.”

 

“Tell _that_ to Pidge.”

 

They both shared a laugh and then let a comfortable silence descend around them. Keith couldn’t help himself as the touches began to calm his mind, his body leaning back so that his head was resting against Lance’s calves. His eyes closed, he took pleasure in the feel of his hands. Lance didn’t say anything, continuing his exploration in silence. When he let his fingers travel to the base of his ears, however, both of them were in for a surprise. His neatly trimmed nails scratched just behind the rise of Keith’s ears and the feeling sent chills down his spine. Keith had never felt that before and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from tilting his head to give Lance better access. As he continued, Keith felt a strange sensation begin to well in his chest and travel upwards into his throat.

 

The low thrum rumbled from his body, unbidden, and both men froze at the sound. Keith felt his entire body vibrate with the force of the rumbling within him and he tensed, horrified, at the realization of what was happening.

 

“Keith… Are you- Are you _purring_?”

 

Keith immediately jumped to his feet.

 

“We’re done here.”

 

He didn’t even bother heading to the locker room, his mortification not allowing him to stop. All he knew was that he had to get away and get some air; he had to get _away_ from Lance.

  



	10. It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! If you haven't been keeping an eye on my writing schedule [(~Link Here~)](https://TheMoonlitPaladin.tumblr.com/WritingSchedule) then I just want to let you know that Gate Keeper will go on a month long hiatus beginning in May. This means that this is the last update until the first Friday in June! (I start my summer semester of school in June and I have another test that I have to take before hand so I want to properly focus my attention.) Thank you for your continued encouragement and kind words and comments, I appreciate each and every one of you!
> 
> # ☽ MP ☾

 

Lance didn’t know what to say as he watched Keith spring to his feet, clearly rattled by the noise that had surprised both of them. Not even bothering to change, he could only sit silently by as Keith flew across the basement and straight up the stairs. It wasn’t like Keith to actively allow himself to look so disturbed, he wasn’t the kind of guy who wore his feelings so openly, and Lance realized after a few minutes of reflection that Keith’s reaction to the purring wasn’t the only time that his entire aura had seemed to change. Earlier, when he’d made those off color cat jokes, Keith had seemed to visibly tense. Something about his more feline nature bothered him and being reminded of it set him off.

 

Clenching his hands, Lance hung his head; he felt like a jackass. He should have been paying more attention to his subtle cues instead of jabbing at him like a child, especially after he made the effort to let him talk through his discomfort. It had been so kind in such a ‘Keith’ kind of way, a sweet gesture hidden inside a practical offer, and Lance had been thankful for the opportunity. Keith wasn’t the type who knew how to deal with other people’s baggage but he still willingly gave Lance the opportunity to talk in a place where he knew he wouldn’t be judged; he listened and allowed him to decompress.

 

“And, in return, I make jokes and make him uncomfortable,” he grumbled to himself with a sigh as he pushed off of the bench, “Lance the dunce strikes again.”

 

 _Hunk would be ashamed of me_ , Lance thought as he pictured the disappointed shake of his head that Hunk would give him if he’d known how callous and careless he’d been, _I’m ashamed of me_. God, but he really was an idiot. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his borrowed sweats as he trekked back to the locker room, trying to forget the feel of the thick, soft, mane that he’d been combing his fingers through. It had been soothing, feeling the tresses slide through his digits, and it had given him no small about of pleasure when Keith had leaned back into his touch and let his head lay on Lance’s legs. It was there between them, a small sprout of trust that, as they interacted, began to take shape and grow. He wondered if, after Keith had hurried away, it was still there.

 

Sighing, Lance quickly changed and made for the stairs, flipping the lights off before ascending. He was lost in his thoughts as he made his way down the hall, so much so that he would have run straight into Allura had she not called out to him first.

 

“Lance! There you are!”

 

“Huh? Oh, hey Allura,” Lance tilted his head, trying to remember what time it had been when he’d left the den, “should you be in bed?”

 

Allura shook her head, her cloud of voluminous hair bouncing with the movement, “no, Shiro is holding a meeting. I’m glad I ran into you! Come on, then.”

 

She gestured towards the opened conference room and Lance followed her inside. Everyone was already seated when the pair of them walked in, the group of fae almost entirely clad in their sleepwear with the exception of Shiro and Keith. Beyond the large window panes there was only darkness, heavy clouds hiding the face of a full moon, and yet everyone in attendance seemed to be wide awake, fingers drumming on the conference table in anticipation as they waited to begin. As in the previous meeting, Shiro stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

 

Lance noticed immediately that Keith was already in attendance and seated facing the doorway; he didn’t even look at Lance as he entered.

 

“Have a seat,” Shiro nodded at the table as he skirted it and came up behind them to close the door, “and let’s begin.”

 

“It’s not even dawn yet, Shiro,” Pidge said once he’d retaken his place at the head of the table, combing her fingers through her messy bed head, “so why are we here so early?”

 

“Because we need to go over the plan.”

 

“Why, exactly, do we need to ‘go over the plan’ at four in the morning” Matt asked with a raised brow, “we have until twilight.”

 

“Why twilight,” Lance asked as he took a seat beside Allura, doing his best to keep his gaze from wandering across the table to Keith, “why does it matter what time we go?”

 

“Scouts and the lower echelon of nasties do most of their stalking when the sun sets,” Coran informed him, adjusting the silly jade nightcap he wore on top of his head, the little white puffball on the end swinging around as he shifted it, “so we’re better off getting home before twilight.”

 

“That still gives us a pretty big window though, right?”

 

Shiro shook his head, “no. That area is a decent fishing spot and after sunrise we’re sure to have at least some company. I don’t want to risk anyone seeing us.”

 

Turning his attention towards Pidge, Shiro nodded at her.

 

“I’m going to need you to stay and look after Hunk. I don't want you out there when you’re still injured and we’ll need someone to hold down the fort.”

 

Pidge glared and raised her arm, “uh, hello? No more sling! I may not be immortal but I’m not human. I’m almost perfectly healed, see?”

 

She made a show of waving her arm but she couldn’t hide the wince that cut across her features when she bent it. _Good try_ , Lance thought.

 

“Nice try,” Shiro chuckled, “but I wasn’t born yesterday. You can go out when you’re back to one hundred percent but not a day sooner. Just take it easy and make sure Hunk stays safe, I’m trusting you.”

 

The grin that he wore in response to her petulant pout faded quickly as he turned his gaze back to the rest of the table.

 

“Matt and Coran, both of you will be watching over Allura. Normally in a situation like this I wouldn’t risk bringing you into the thick of things but we’ll need you to be able to tell us if someone gets close,” he told her, “so just don’t over exert yourself and make sure that you three stay close. Keith and I will stay close to Lance just in case something does happen and we’re attacked. Everyone go get ready, we leave in half an hour.”

 

The group moved to stand but everyone paused when Keith spoke.

 

“Shiro, what about what I told you? We can’t go out there when we know people are looking for him! We’re putting everyone, including Lance, in danger.”

 

Curious eyes darted around the table from Keith to Shiro, everyone slowly inching back down into their seats. The air was thick as Shiro placed his palms on the table and leaned forward.

 

“I heard your concerns. and I’ve taken it into account, but we can’t sleep on this opportunity. We need to do this as soon as possible so that we might at least get somewhere and learn what we have to do so that Lance can open the way.”

 

“He can’t open anything if he’s dead, Shiro.”

 

“That’s what we’re there for, Keith.”

 

“What’s he talking about,” Matt piped up, looking from one man to the other, “what don’t we know?”

 

“Three unseelie goons came into the pub looking for Lance and they talked to someone about him, someone Lance had asked about the dig, and they were in a hurry to leave. They know where we’re heading.”

 

“Then we should do it now, while we can, so that they don't have the time to set up an ambush,” Coran said, nodding to himself, “yes, that sounds like the best course of action.”

 

Keith made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, clenching his jaws.

 

“They’ve had hours to set an ambush already. We can’t just walk in there and expect it to be easy.”

 

“No one is expecting it to be a walk in the park, Keith,” Allura added and, though she obviously meant well, the gentle tone did little more than come across as patronizing, “but they’re right; if we give them more time then we’ll never have a way in without getting attacked. If we go now, we likely face the smallest number of foes if we face them at all.”

 

Lance spoke up, voice aimed at Keith despite the fact that his gazed was focused at Shiro.

 

“We’ve waited long enough and if we don’t move now, we put ourselves in more danger. I’m ready when you are, let’s just do this thing.”

 

From his periphery, Lance saw Keith’s mouth drop open as he finally turned to look at him, the disbelief evident on his features.

 

“I’m glad to hear it, Lance. My decision stands, everyone go get ready. You have thirty minutes.”

 

Not bothering to spare a glance in his direction, Lance turned away and began towards his bedroom after everyone around him left. He’d only just made it into the hallway when a firm hand clamped over his bicep and tugged him back, forcing him to turn.

 

“You’re seriously on board with this?”

 

“Yes,” he answered, squaring his chest in the face of Keith’s disapproval, “and you know that it’s our only option right now. You get weaker the longer the pass stays closed, can you really afford to wait?”

 

“I’ve been waiting for over twenty years so yes, we can, if it means your life,” Keith growled, his fingers flexing on Lance’s arm before his touch fell away.

 

“I’ll be fine, Keith; I have you there to look after me, don’t I?”

 

“I can’t protect you from everything, Lance.”

 

“Look, if anything crazy happens, everybody is going to be there. We shouldn’t have anything to worry about, right?”

 

From behind him, Lance caught several blurred glimpses of Keith’s swishing tail.

 

“I can’t promise you that.”

 

“I’m not asking you to. I know it’s dangerous, I’m not stupid. I know you’re worried but you need to have some faith. I’ll see you outside.”

 

He understood Keith’s worry and he too felt the uncertainty and unshakable sense of foreboding that seemed to permeate the atmosphere. It was only a fool who thought that nothing could go wrong. Lance went upstairs and changed into a dark grey hoodie that Keith had lent him a few days prior, deciding to keep the black sweats on that he’d changed into down in the gym. He wasn’t sure exactly what he should be wearing but dark colors to help keep them from sight seemed like the best idea. Tossing the hood up over his messy hair, he hurried back downstairs and made towards the door when he noticed Pidge leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, her small frame keeping the door pressed open as she bit into an apple. Her expression was sour as she glared at the door, as though it were personally forcing her to stay inside.

 

“Hey,” Lance called, pausing, “thank you for looking after Hunk. I feel good knowing you’re here for him.”

 

Though she was clearly not happy about babysitting duty, she managed a small smile.

 

“No problem, he’ll be in good hands.”

 

“I know he will and, for what it’s worth, I bet you could still take out a mess of scouts even with a bum arm.”

 

That kicked her smile into overdrive and she cackled, straightening and lifting her chin.

 

“You’re damn right! Now get a move on.”

 

“Sure,” he saluted with a cheesy grin, pulling the door open and pausing only when she called his name.

 

“Lance.”

 

He turned a glance at her over his left shoulder.

 

“Hmm?”

 

There was worry there, in her bright amber eyes, and he felt that chill of foreboding begin crawling its way along his skin again.

 

“Stay safe.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” he promised.

 

* * *

 

 

After everyone met up, they divvied themselves up with half riding with Shiro and half riding with Allura. Coran and Matt accompanied the princess while Keith and Lance rode with Shiro. It was a half hour ride from the manor to the dig site in West Lothian and the uncomfortable silence in the SUV was stifling. Lance had been hoping that he wouldn’t be stuck riding in a car with Keith after the incident from earlier, unwilling to let himself within close proximity in case his stupid mouth opened and he said something that offended them, but he hadn’t been so lucky. Keith sat rigid in the passenger seat, his all black get up nearly allowing him to fade into the black of the vehicle’s leather seats. It was strange to see him looking so human after Lance had just gotten used to his real appearance.

 

They had all switched on their amplifiers before they’d gotten in their vehicles, their disguises dulling their appearances. He thought about the way Keith looked this way and compared it to how he’d looked standing in the light of the garage. In this disguise, no one could see the slight tenting at the sides of his black beanie where the tips of his ears pressed against the fabric or the tail that he’d hidden up in his hoodie that wrapped around his throat like a thick, black, furred, choker; in this disguise, his eyes weren’t nearly as magnificent.

 

Lance groaned internally at the progression of his thoughts; something was _seriously_ wrong with him. In an attempt to put himself into the proper frame of mind, he spoke up and broke the deafening silence.

 

“Hey, Shiro? Can I ask you something that’s been bugging me?”

 

Shiro’s gaze drifted up to the rearview where he met Lance’s.

 

“Sure, what’s on your mind?”

 

“I’ve been wondering about what George told me about the excavation site. He said that the archaeologists had really bad nightmares that caused some of them even quit and that the locals wouldn’t go anywhere near it out of superstition. Apparently everybody was really spooked. What would have caused that?”

 

Shiro took a deep breath and thought over his answer before he spoke.

 

“Are you familiar with the concept of residual energy?”

 

Lance nodded, “sure, it’s a buildup of powerful emotion and energy from a tragic event that saturates an area and creates a haunting kind of effect that plays out the same way over and over again.”

 

“That’s essentially what this is. You remember that I told you the war between our people was bloody?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Zarkon and his compatriots did some unspeakable things, Lance. That site was one of the places where they decided to make a statement.”

 

Though he knew he wouldn’t like the answer, he had to know.

 

“What statement? What did he do?”

 

“That no one was safe. No one knows why that particular spot was important to the Keepers, all that we knew was that there were certain parts of the country where they gathered. When the war began, Zarkon rooted out all of the gathering places that we knew of and left a warning for any fae who fraternized with halflings or humans. He left a symbol made with the corpses of halfling adolescents and children before he set them on fire. That’s why the locals are superstitious; all they know is that someone was doing horrific things and that strange symbols were involved that couldn’t be explained in any known language.”

 

Chills raced along Lance’s spine at the thought of such tragedy and he understood the need for his parent’s secrecy when it came to his birth. What a horrible world to live in, what a horrible reality to birth a child in.

 

“Okay, thank you for explaining.”

 

He didn’t feel much like talking anymore, an invisible weight settling heavily upon his shoulders as they neared their destination. Keith turned back to look at him, concern etched over his features.

 

“You alright?”

 

“Fine,” Lance lied, turning his gaze out the window to discourage anymore conversation.

 

The silence resumed and stretched on until they came to a stop, pulling the vehicle off of the road to the shoulder just behind Allura’s car. The cloud cover that had masked the moon dissipated, lighting the field before them and the water just beyond. There were very few trees in the vicinity of the reservoir and those that did near the water sat grouped in sporadic clusters. In the brilliant light of a full moon, thick reeds danced to the persuasive whistle of the breeze at the water’s edge while, off in the background, several soft sloped hills rose gently towards the sky. All in all, it was unremarkable and it struck Lance as a strange place to hide anything when it was so out in the open.

 

“Anything, Allura?”

 

Allura shook her head as the group joined up, giving Shiro a small, tense, smile as she wiped away the few beads of sweat forming on her brow.

 

“No, nothing; we appear to be alone.”

 

“Excellent. Matt, lead the way.”

 

Lance kept to Keith’s side in the center of their grouping as Matt took the lead and began a slow walk down towards the water. There was a strange feeling in the back of Lance’s mind as they walked through the field, a sort of static crackling reminiscent of an old television that became louder as they continued. It began pulsing, thrumming in a cadence that matched each of his steps and soon began to hurt. They were nearly sixty feet from the water’s edge when the buzzing became too loud, too painful, for him to stand. Unable to handle going any further, Lance reached out and clutched at Keith’s arm to keep from falling.

 

“Lance? Lance! Are you okay?”

 

Keith’s arm wrapped around him to keep him steady when Lance teetered and the group immediately stopped and converged around him.

 

“It’s here,” Lance managed through gritted teeth, eyes squinting against the pain in the back of his head, “my fucking head is acting like a metal detector and whatever we’re looking for is right under my feet.”

 

“Yeah,” Matt said after a moment, “that’s what I thought. Keith, take him back a little ways and see if it helps.”

 

Keith was already trying to pull him back when Lance struggled out of his grasp.

 

“No, just do it and make it quick before my skull explodes.”

 

He couldn’t explain it but he needed to be there, he needed to stand there and see what was beneath the ground calling to him. Keith firmly tucked his arm back around Lance’s waist and pulled him against the crook of his body, forcing him just off to the side and out of the way.

 

“I’m not going to pull you back, but if you try to do anything on your own when you can barely stand, I’m going to take your legs out from under you and carry you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, understand?”

 

“Standby for a smart comment when I don’t want to die,” Lance panted, swallowing thickly while he tried to focus on Matt where he was kneeling on the ground.

 

Matt began to hum like Lance had seen him do in the garden, a vibrant green glow emanating from his palms as he slid his hands across the ground in a repetitive series of lines, his humming deepening with each new pass of his hands. After several more passes he abruptly clapped his hands together and then raised them upwards. The ground beneath their feet began to rumble as a straight, vertical, line appeared on the ground, the vibrations strengthening as the earth on either side of that line began to pull up and away from one another, curling like the edges of a dated polaroid to reveal a large hole filled with a circle of white marble obelisks just like George had described.

 

Lance’s breath caught in his chest and he would have fallen had it not been for Keith’s firm hold of him.

 

“Do you see that,” he wheezed as the pressure in his head finally, finally, began to let up, “tell me you see the light.”

 

“Light? There is no light, Lance,” Allura shook her head as she peered down into the hole that Matt had opened, “only those pillars.”

 

Shiro, Matt, and Coran all shared a similar, hopeful, expression.

 

“What do you see, Lance,” Keith asked him as he helped him to move forward.

 

It was like seeing through a pair of old 3D glasses, the pulsing blue orbs sitting atop each obelisk out of focus and blurred. As he neared, the lights brightened and took him by surprise when connecting beams shot from each of them to create a ring of light. Lance couldn’t speak as the space within the outlined circle began to shimmer and solidify, creating a surface like clear quartz.

 

“Lance?”

 

Keith’s voice sounded so far away, like it was from another lifetime, as Lance found his footing and broke once more from his hold. He couldn’t break free from the call of whatever it was that he was seeing and, before Keith could pull him back, he stretched his foot out above the hole, closed his eyes, and readied himself for what seemed like an inevitable fall. Lance nearly stumbled and his eyes flew open when his foot hit a solid surface. Looking down, he felt his stomach lurch up towards his throat; he was standing on thin air with the bottom of the pit some twenty feet below him.

 

“How,” Coran murmured from somewhere behind him as the group gasped in similar surprise, watching him take a few steps forward, “how is he doing that?”

 

“It must be part of his ability as a Keeper,” Allura said, the awe shining from within her voice, “he can see things that we cannot.”

 

As if to punctuate her words, the moment that Lance’s feet connected with the quartz like surface suspended above the objects, the pillars began to glow beneath him. Like George had described to him, the symbol on his side was etched all over the surface of the obelisks and they shone through the darkness with a brilliant Aegean light. George had thought that the symbols had reacted to twilight when, truthfully, they had reacted to Lance’s presence nearby. The mark on his side began to tingle as Lance stood in the center of the pillars and the buzzing in his head began again, although it no longer sounded so garbled.

 

“Voices,” Lance said suddenly as the static began to separate and the sound of voices began to come through in his ears, “I hear… I hear voices.”

 

The words were not in his tongue, similarly he doubted it was in any tongue known to man, yet the meaning of each word clicked, resonating somewhere within him. Pictures, symbols, flooded his mind’s eye as he stood frozen, each image imprinting upon him before shifting to the next. His body felt foreign, as though his mind had ascended and yearned, longed, for a proper form. Lance was lost to the unending wave of knowledge, his heart racing in his chest as the steady flow continued-

 

**RUN.**

 

Breath catching, Lance was snapped from his nirvana as the word embedded within his mind and was screamed into his ears. He couldn’t explain it but he didn’t question it, knowing within him that something was about to go _very_ wrong.

 

“Run,” he shouted, turning towards the group who was looking on in a mixture of wonder and confusion, “we need to go now!”

 

“Everything is fine, Lance,” Shiro spoke calmly, holding a hand out as he edged towards the sheer drop at the side of the hole, “Allura would have picked up on any life-”

 

“He’s right, we have company,” Allura shouted, head whipping around as she scanned the fields and scattered tree lines, “a _lot_ of company!”

 

A bead of cold sweat rolled down Lance’s spine as he cross back over to the group, grabbing Matt’s shoulder with a forceful hand as he pointed to the pillars, “cover it back up! We need to go!”

 

“They’re hard to pin down,” Allura whispered harshly, spinning in a circle, “but they’re closing fast. Something’s wrong with them, this energy doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“I told you that this was a bad idea,” Keith growled, his hands clenched tight at his sides.

 

“Now’s not the time, Keith,” Shiro barked, “Matt, can you cover it quickly?”

 

Matt nodded and Lance released him, standing back to make sure that the site was sealed once more beneath a thick layer of earth. Lance hadn’t realized, however, how much energy it had taken for him and he had to take a hold of his arm when Matt teetered and nearly fell to his side.

 

“Sorry, Matt,” Lance murmured, helping him to his feet.

 

“Not your fault,” Matt grimaced, “but we have bigger fish to fry.”

 

It was hard not to feel guilty when, even in the darkness, it was easy to see the strain in the pinching of his features and the pallor of his complexion.

 

“Get to the cars,” Shiro commanded, “go!”

 

Lance reluctantly released Matt after he promised he could walk and they set off for the vehicles parked just off the road. They didn’t make it back to the cars before the first of the creatures began hurtling towards them from the North, the sound hitting their ears before they could make out their visages. The size of horses, the creatures scrambled towards them on misshapen limbs that beat at the earth with the force of thunder. As they closed in, Lance felt his entire body run cold. From the center of their backs sat a swaying clump of skin that, upon further inspection, looked to be a human from the torso up that was melted into the creatures’ bodies. As they crossed through beams of moonlight, Lance made another startling realization; they were completely skinless. Dull, rancid, muscle was exposed to the night as they ran towards them, their single, glowing, red eyes wide and focused as the faceless beings on their backs raising glittering metal arms and aimed them towards the group as they backed away. They would never be able to get to the cars before those things at the rate they were going.

 

“What the _fuck_ are those,” Lance shouted as he took several steps backwards, heart thumping in his ears as he looked at Keith who had a hand fisted in the back of his hoodie, pulling him back with him.

 

“I have no idea,” Keith said, his eyes scanning the surroundings as another wave came into view at the North-East, “Shiro? We’re not going to be able to get out of here, they’ll run us down.”

 

“Then we’ll fight,” Shiro decided on the spot, “we’re not so weak that we can’t at least take down enough of them for you to get Lance out of here.”

 

“I am not going to leave you guys alone with those things-”

 

There was nothing but steel in the sharp glare that Shiro aimed at Keith.

 

“Yes you are. Get moving, Keith. We’re strong enough to take them on and you need to keep Lance out of danger-”

 

None of them saw it until it was far too late. The monstrosity at the forefront of the charge had dipped its head low and the creature attached to it had brought its arms out in front of it’s chest. In the center of each palm a purple orb generated, pulsing and growing with each second before they shot forward, coalescing into one thick beam of energy that hit Lance square in the chest. Pain, sheer, white-hot, mind-numbing pain, shot through his body like a bolt of lightning and the world around him spun as his legs gave way, his body falling to the ground. He lay frozen, trying desperately to breath as every muscle in his body seemed to seize and tighten.

 

“Lance!”

 

Lance heard them all call his name just before Keith fell to his knees beside him, letting his hands roam over his face, tilting his head back so that he was looking at him.

 

“Lance, are you okay?”

 

He tried to open his mouth to speak but nothing happened, his body was locked tight and unable to heed his desperate pleas as his mind was filled with the image of the monsters barreling towards them. _They didn’t have time, they needed to move._

 

“I can’t move him like this,” Keith’s voice was frenzied and Lance could see the barely contained fear in his gaze as he looked to Shiro, “there’s no way I could carry him and outrun them if you can’t hold them back.”

 

“Then just keep them away from Lance. You need to shift; those things are too fast for you to take as you are.”

 

He saw the fear strengthen in Keith as he hesitated, teeth raking his lip even as his fingers tightened in the fabric of Lance’s hoodie.

 

“Now, Keith,” Shiro yelled as he flexed his right arm, straightening his fingers seconds before they began to emanate a violet light similar to the beam that had hit Lance.

 

Keith looked down at Lance once more before gently laying his head down upon the ground. Lance could hear Coran talking to Allura about hiding and Matt mumbling words over and over to himself but all he could focus on was Keith. Though it happened in a matter of seconds, it felt like he was seeing the shift in slow motion. After twisting the ring on his finger and reverting to his true form, Keith tipped his head back and a fearsome, low, roar ripped from his throat. His iris’ muddied before brightening into the yellow that Lance recalled from his first night abroad and his hands fisted, the bones shifting and fusing into large, heavy, paws. Keith bent forward, his paws hitting the ground with a heavy ‘thump’ as his spine rearranged, clothing tearing away as his entire body began morphing and lowering until his form could only be compared to that of a thick, muscular, jaguar with a solid coat of black fur. It wasn’t pretty, his transformation, but it was incredible to see and, had they not been in about to fight for their lives, Lance might have told him as much.

 

Lance closed his eyes as the scent of rotting flesh descended on him, riding the wind alongside the creatures that we practically on top of them. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t help, and he certainly couldn’t watch them get hurt on his account. A few stray tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as the thought of failure snapped at him like a rabid animal. Was this it?

 

 

The field around him seemed to lighten as he took his feline form, eyes shifting quickly to regain his bearings, and where the night had been black it was now shades of grey and the shapes before them were more easily visible. The smell of the creatures, like rotting flesh, viciously attacked his nostrils and he could only stand back on full alert as Coran hid Allura away in a small pocket of space outside of their dimension and then joined Matt and Shiro in the line they formed in front of where Keith stood at Lance’s side.

 

The second line of monsters grouped with the first and, after they passed the cars, Matt hit the ground and began the assault. The earth ripped apart beneath the charging beasts, several falling into the holes the druid opened while the others managed to skirt it. A series of quicksand pits sprang forth, catching another handful and halting their movements before the thick sand overwhelmed and suffocated them. The sound of primal screams and thundering hooves filled the early morning air. Shiro charged ahead as the first made its way to them, rising on its back hooves to kick at the air while it’s grotesque rider aimed its palms and shot the concentrated beams of energy at him.

 

Shiro dodged the blasts and forcefully thrust his hand upwards, his metal fingers sliding through the throat of the great beast with a sickening sucking noise and wetting the high grass with black blood that gushed from yellowed veins as he sliced in an arc, nearly decapitating it. Several more rushed past him, heading straight for Coran and Matt. There was a sheen of sweat on Matt’s pale skin, the effort he’d put forth to stop the monsters having nearly depleted what little strength he’d had after unearthing the pillars, and he looked faint. Cora shielded him, holding off the attackers while Shiro unleashed the final, killing, blows.

 

Keith bared his teeth and growled, feeling helpless as he stood guard over Lance’s unmoving form. He didn’t like to have to watch from a distance as his friends fought, especially when Matt looked ready to keel over at the next heavy gust of wind. He allowed himself to spare a glance down at Lance, noticing the wet trails at the corners of his tightly closed eyes. He was terrified and he had every right to be. After raising his eyes back to the fighting to check on everyone, he let himself briefly focus on his charge. Keith dipped his head and rubbed his cheeks against Lance’s temples, the thick fur wiping away the streaks left by his tears. It wasn’t fair that he had to witness so much horror and it wasn’t fair that he’d been thrust into this role.

 

“Keep your eyes closed,” Keith said near his ear, “and have faith.”

 

“Hurts,” Lance managed to say, his voice frighteningly frail, “hurts… everywhere.”

 

“Don’t try to move. Stay still.”

 

He felt his digits tense and his claws sunk into the dirt at the sound of his voice, at the sight of his pain and fear. How _dare_ they.

 

“Keith, look out!”

 

Shiro had managed to take down a second beast, but the third had moved past him while he’d been fighting and it was making straight for Lance. All of the fur on his body rose as the rider leaned to the side, long, silver, limbs reaching in an attempt to scoop Lance’s still body from the ground. Keith ran, strong limbs carrying him quickly over the ground, and then propelled his body upwards, pouncing into the air with an open maw. He caught the creature’s arm in his mouth just above where it’s augmented metal prosthetic began and the taste of bile filled his mouth as he bit down, crushing the bone. The muscle protested as he fiercely shook his head, tearing at the limb with all that he had, but eventually gave.

 

An unholy scream sounded from the mouth of the horse, shrill with multiple overlaying voices, and Keith threw the limb from his mouth and turned, dodging a set of beams fired in quick succession before leaping up and taking the other arm in similar fashion. Enraged, the beast stomped at the ground, it’s limbless rider bouncing like a ragdoll as it charged him. Keith easily sidestepped it however he realized too late that he wasn't the target. The creature continued, barreling towards where Lance was pushing himself up onto his elbows. Singular crimson eye glued to him, the beast reared, feet raised as it readied itself to slam its hooves down into his body.

 

There was no way to push Lance out of the way without hurting him and his body moved of its own accord. Without a second thought, Keith positioned himself over Lance’s body, shielding him from the blow as the hooves rained down upon him. Beneath him, Lance’s eyes were wide with horror as he watched Keith’s body nearly crumble from the impact, the sound of cracking bone too loud to ignore.

 

“Keith!”

 

His legs trembled as the pain cut through him. He’d been lucky, instead of landing straight down upon his spine, the hooves had hit the left side of his ribcage and slid down into the dirt. Anger, hatred, and pure rage, built in him until he could hardly see beyond the haze of red. It had known that he would protect Lance and had forced his hand. Hissing, Keith waited for it to turn for another charge and, when it did, he began running towards it. The pain in his side was excruciating and breath didn’t come easily, his body was broken and he was wheezing as he willed himself forward. When he was close enough he leapt once more, sinking his teeth into its throat and digging his claws into it’s flesh. It reared, it bucked, it slung its head, but it could not dislodge him. With sheer force of will, Keith released his hold on its throat and used his claws to pull his body up and snap his teeth closed on its skull. There was a shrill screech as it fumbled, legs shaking as it moved blindly forward, hooves sinking in the mud at the edge of the reservoir and sending it, _finally_ , to its side.

 

It was with a loud ‘ _splash!_ ’ that Keith’s body, limp and feeble, hit the water. The pain that had dulled with his rush of adrenaline came back with a vengeance, robbing him of breath, and while he tried, desperately, to keep his head above water, he simply didn’t have the strength. He was surrounded by darkness and cold, sinking, _sinking_ , into the depths. He’d never thought that drowning would be what did him in, he’d always thought he’d go down looking death in the face with a bloody grin, and he might have worn a self-deprecating smirk if he’d had the ability. His thoughts flashed with memories and images of the people he was leaving behind. Katie would be okay, she still had Matt, and, though Shiro and the rest would mourn his loss, they would force themselves to move on.

 

He thought of Lance then, sweet, kind, Lance with his charming brand of sincerity and pretty smile. He thought of how he might have liked to see it more and he hoped that he knew he’d done his best to protect him. Mostly, though, Keith just hoped he would be safe. His heart thumped painfully in his chest and he reached up towards the surface of the water with a shifting paw, the digits lengthening back into fingers. His lungs began to burn as what little air he’d held ran out and he could help but cry out for air, his vision blurring before it ultimately darkened.

 

_No, I’m not ready yet._

 

* * *

 

 

Lance had slowly been regaining his mobility, his muscles spasming before he was finally able to move his limbs. Pain still spread through his body in waves with each movement, but he pushed it away. Keith. Clenching his jaws against the agony as he somehow managed to get to his feet, he pushed himself towards the monster that he’d slain and the area where he’d heard him go down. Shiro and Coran were still busy holding off the final two beasts and Matt seemed to have lost consciousness. Keith was alone and hurt.

 

His shuffling feet sent him to his knees twice as he moved towards the water and after the second time, he crawled. Lance forced his aching body across the ground, the words, ‘I have to save Keith,’ repeating over and over in his mind like a mantra. The water sluiced around his fingers when he reached the edge, biting at his skin with frigid teeth, and still he pushed forward. The water soaked through his clothing and cozied up to his skin, sapping his warmth as he took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface. He’d read somewhere that cold water was optimal if someone lost consciousness, as the cold would delay brain damage and give a rescuer two minutes to pull them out. He wanted to be hopeful despite his fears.

 

The cynical voice in the back of his head said that it was too late and he remembered the sound he’d heard when that monster had landed those blows on Keith… When he’d saved his life. He had seen his yellow eyes nearly roll back and he’d felt the paws on either side of him tremble as he’d fought to keep him shielded with his own body. He had saved his life.

 

It was hard for him to see in the murky darkness but, somehow, he was able to make out a dark shape near the bottom. _Keith_. Channeling all of his energy, Lance forced himself as deep as he could go and managed to get a hold of Keith’s hand. His body was bare after his transformation and his eyes were closed; he didn’t have long if he had any time at all. Desperately, Lance pulled him as close as he could to his own body, avoiding his left side. He had only gotten them a few feet up when a fresh wave of pain rolled through his body, forcing all the breath from his lungs in shock. No, not now, they were so close!

 

He clawed, he tugged, he prayed, but he could feel himself slipping down alongside Keith. Fear and panic, two twin evils, raised their wicked heads and Lance felt a welling of utter hopelessness. After everything that had happened, after everything that he’d been through, after all the hope that he’d given them, Lance could not admit defeat, not now.

 

_It cannot end like this._

 

**I will not let it end like this.**

 

Water began to rush around his ears as they sank to the bottom of the reservoir and Lance felt a stabbing pressure in the back of his mind. The images from his time at the excavation site popped before his mind’s eye and he felt a surge of some otherworldly energy run the length of his arms to settle in the tips of his fingers. The frigid waters began to warm around him and he wondered, briefly, if he was dying but there was something within him that seemed to be speaking. Like when he’d stepped into the center of the obelisks, he could hear someone, though this time it was a single voice and it sounded very much like his own.

 

Lance opened his mouth, allowing the water to rush in as he began to chant. He didn’t question how he was still conscious; he didn’t question how he knew the words forming over his tongue; he didn’t care. Words flew from his mouth, silenced by the weight of water, and he felt the constricting in his chest lighten. A light blue glow began to appear at the tip of his fingers and he obeyed the voice within him. He placed a glowing hand on his chest and slotted his lips to Keith’s. Inhaling, Lance felt the water enter his mouth, emptying from Keith’s lungs. Beneath his fingers he felt the dull throb of Keith’s heart as it began beating.

 

The rush of the water around them became a violent, spinning like a whirlpool and taking them into the center of its chaotic cycle. Lance’s vision went white like the flash from a camera, and within what felt like an instant, he was overtaken by darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

_Warmth. Sand. Voices. Sirens._

 

Lance’s eyes opened briefly, forcibly pried open by a pair of warm hands just before a light was shone into them. He could smell something familiar past the salt of sea air, something that reminded him of churros from Miami Beach. It was with great effort that he turned his head, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Keith lying at his side. His chest was moving; he was breathing.

 

“-let’s get them in.”

 

Lance’s eyes closed and the voices lowered until they were just a constant buzz in his ears. He felt himself being jostled but he didn’t know why. All he knew was that he was warm, he was tired, Keith was safe, and he could feel the darkness creeping up again.

 

He faded back into unconsciousness.

  



	11. A Great Day to be Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for suffering through a month of no updates for me, I'm glad to be back! My classes start up on Monday but no worries, I'll still be here to provide you with Gate Keeper goodness! I'm so glad to be back and see all you muffins again <3 I hope that you're all well and I hope you enjoy what I have planned for you!
> 
> # ☽ MP ☾

Lance woke to the sound of mechanical whirring and soft, constant, beeps. There was a slight scent of cleaning product hanging lightly in the cool air circulating in the room. It took several tries for his heavy lids to finally lift at his insistence and, when he was able to look around, he had to blink several times to make sure that what he was seeing was real. The blinds on the large window to his right had been pulled, darkening the room around him, but the twin lights above his bed were on to cover his body in a dull yellow glow. The thin hospital blankets had bunched around his waist and he could see the rise and fall at his calves where the blankets covered the pneumatic stockings that were constantly inflating and deflating around his legs. As he tried to sit up, he grimaced at the feel of slight tugging at his chest. Reaching a hand up to the loose grey gown that he wore, he pulled the neck of it away from his skin to look down at his body.

 

Leads ran out from the left arm of his gown from where they were connected to the sticky, circular, sponges that were attached to his heavily bruised chest and abdomen. Heart monitor, he thought hazily as he looked up to the left of the bed where a display was beeping along with his pulse. Where was he? How had he gotten to a hospital? Was it even actually a hospital? Was this a dream? Too many questions and not enough answers. With a groan at the ache in his body, Lance threw his legs over the side of the bed after dropping the rails and pulling off the stockings, carefully reaching into his gown to release the lead clamps from the connectors on the conductors. Gritting his teeth at the annoyance of the pads taking small pieces of skin with them, he pulled all of them off of his body and tossed them to the end of the bed. He knew from his own experience in the hospital that if you took off your heart monitor leads, a nurse would be on their way almost immediately.

 

While he waited, he tried to think back to the last thing that he remembered. Gulping as the memory of swirling water came back to him, Lance felt his stomach drop. Keith. Vividly, painfully, he remembered watching Keith guard him. He’d taken the blow meant for Lance and suffered, the horrifying sound of his bones breaking echoing in his ears. Keith had fought it until he’d been able to take it down, however it had taken its toll on him. Nausea filled him as he remembered the sound of his body hitting the water. He had to find Keith.

 

It had only been five minutes or so since he’d unhooked his cables when the door to his room creaked open and a young woman in plum colored scrubs walked in.

 

“Good afternoon,” she chirped cheerfully as she stopped at the sink and washed her hands before she slipped on a pair of latex gloves, “it’s nice to see you awake. The fellas down in telemetry were wondering how your cables had gotten unhooked but I see that you took them off. How are you feeling?”

 

“I don’t like cords,” he shrugged as she walked over to him, “ I feel fine. Where am I? And where’s my friend?”

 

“You’re at Mt. Sinai hospital in Miami and your friend is down the hall. Don’t worry,” she said, raising a hand to stop him before he could ask, “he’s doing fine. He has several broken bones and some severe bruising but he’s going to be okay. When he wakes up we should be able to send him home and you can go home after Dr. Feltz gives you a once over.”

 

He digested her words while she took his pulse and checked his blood pressure and temperature.

 

“Everything looks good so I’m going to go ahead and get the doctor in to see you so you can go see your friend. What’s your name, sweetie? You didn’t have any ID on you when you were brought here.”

 

“Lance McClain,” he supplied.

 

“Thank you very much,” she beamed before moving towards the computer mounted on the wall a few feet from the door, “and what’s your friend’s name?”

 

“Keith Kogane.”

 

She made a note of that on a piece of paper and slipped it into the top pocket of her scrubs.

 

“Alright, Lance, Dr. Feltz will be here in a few minutes.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

He was in a hospital in _Miami._

 

“How the hell did we wind up in Florida,” he asked himself, shaking his head.

 

None of this made any sense. What had happened to Shiro and the group? Had they gotten away safely? Were they here as well? _What was going on_? He tried to remember what had happened before they were attacked in West Lothian but his memory was fuzzy and he resigned himself to disappointment as he fiddled with his fingers and waited for the doctor.

 

Fifteen minutes after the nurse had left, a small, older, man walked into Lance’s room. He had a friendly enough face, a kind smile and laugh lines around the corners of his eyes, but Lance was still on edge. The man introduced himself as Dr. Feltz and checked over the nurse’s notes before he did his own pulse and breathing checks on him.

 

“Everything looks and sounds good,” Feltz smiled as he sterilized the flat of his stethoscope and nonchalantly draped it back around his neck, “how do you feel?”

 

“I feel fine. Can I go see my friend now?”

 

“In a minute, be patient. Tell me, do you remember what happened to you?”

 

Lance opened his mouth and then promptly shut it; he couldn’t just say, ‘not really but I remember that my friend and I were drowning in a reservoir in Scotland and then suddenly I woke up in a Miami hospital.’

 

“No, I don’t remember anything. How did we wind up here?”

 

Feltz crossed his arms, leaning his hip against the railing at the foot of the bed.

 

“A police patrol spotted you and your friend when you washed up on the beach. They called for an ambulance and you were brought to us at around one this morning. It was strange that both of you were soaked to the skin and freezing cold, but neither of you had water in your lungs when you were found. You’re in excellent condition with the exception of some nasty bruises on your chest…”

 

The man’s voice trailed off for a moment.

 

“I don’t suppose you and your friend got into a fight?”

 

“No, why do you ask?”

 

“Well, forgive me son but you’re covered in bruises and your friend was as naked as a jaybird with several broken ribs and a left side about as colorful as your chest. From the looks of it, it appears that you boys were either fighting each other or in over your head in something else-”

 

“It was nothing like that. Can I see him now?”

 

Feltz sighed when he realized that he was done talking, nodding as he waved a hand, gesturing for Lance to follow him. Lance made sure his gown was tightened before he stepped out into the hallway, eyes scanning in both directions in case any police officers were waiting for check up on them. If they were found by the police, the last thing that they needed was them to be asking them questions that neither of them could properly answer. The bright, well lit, hallway had him squinting as he padded to the next room to the right of his own and followed the doctor inside.

 

Unlike with his room, the blinds in Keith’s room were open, spilling warm afternoon rays across the white tile of the hospital room and, subsequently, over where Keith lay still in his bed. Lance saw nothing else after his eyes found Keith’s form.

 

“Where is his ring?”

 

“In his personal belongings bag-”

 

“Get it, now.”

 

He knew the man couldn’t see it Keith’s true form like he could, if he had then things likely would have gone a little differently, but he felt safer with his disguise fully in place. While Feltz was rooting around for his bag, Lance pulled up an empty chair next to the bed. Keith’s breathing was shallow and his eyes were closed, long lashes still against his cheeks. Keith’s tail lay limp where it was angled off to the right side and slid out from beneath the rails on the bed. His ears were lowered and several strands of hair near his temples were wet with sweat and plastered to his skin. The gown he wore, a match to Lance’s own, wasn’t tied at the back of the neck and the top had slid down to reveal his collarbones and the color creeping up from the left that marred his pale skin.

 

When the doctor handed Lance the bag that held his ring, Keith’s only belonging, Lance quickly slipped it back where it belonged on his right index finger and twisted it as he’d seen him do so many times. His feline ears disappeared and his mane of hair thinned and shortened, leaving him looking nothing more than a perfectly normal, average, man. Though he doubted that they were in much danger in Miami, Lance wasn’t willing to take chances and allow anymore harm come to him. As he was pulling away, Keith took a hold of his hand and his eyelids fluttered once before lifting. It seemed as though just opening his eyes took great effort.

 

“Lance?”

 

“Hey,” Lance murmured, relieved smile perking his lips at the sight of him awake, “good to see you breathing.”

 

After looking around the room and blinking the haze from his eyes, Keith gave him a very small weary smile. The sight of it had Lance’s heart pounding. He was okay.

 

“Good to _be_ breathing-”

 

As if on cue, the moment that Keith tried to take a deep breath he cried out in pain, the hand that held Lance’s tightening as he gritted his teeth.

 

“You’re going to want to be careful about that, young man,” Feltz said as he came up to his left, “you have three broken ribs and some extensive bruising up your left side. Luckily for you there was no organ damage and you’ll be able to go home and heal up on your own. It’s going to be hard to breathe deeply and you’re going to be in some pain so we’re going to send you home with some painkillers to help with that and you should heal up in six to eight weeks.”

 

Keith grimaced at those words and the scowl that formed nearly had Lance laughing; he was definitely okay. He didn’t say anything as the doctor checked Keith’s vitals, though he nearly came out of his chair when he pressed against his ribcage and forced Keith to yelp.

 

“Calm down, I was just checking the break one last time. I’ll have both of your discharge paperwork brought to you and then you can leave. I suggest you call someone to come pick you up.”

 

The pair was quiet until the doctor left them alone, neither speaking until the sound of his footsteps disappeared down the hall.

 

“Where are we?”

 

Lance worried his lip.

 

“Miami.”

 

Keith blinked and then furrowed his brows, “I’m sorry, run that by me again.”

 

“We’re in Miami.”

 

“You’re joking.”

 

There was a solid minute where Keith searched Lance’s face, eyes combing his features for any hint of jest.

 

“Holy shit, you’re not joking.”

 

“Trust me, my sense of humor isn’t that bad.”

 

“Okay, since crazy is the flavor of the day, how the hell did we get to the United States?”

 

“I have an idea but I don’t want to say anything until we get out of here. I’m going to make a call and get us out of here. Should I call Shiro and tell him what’s going on?”

 

“No, let’s wait until we’re out of the hospital. I feel exposed here.”

 

He couldn’t help it.

 

“Exposed? I guess you could say that. They did wheel you in here totally naked.”

 

Keith groaned which only widened the smirk that Lance wore as he moved to stand.

 

“You going to let me make that call?”

 

Keith just stared at him, uncomprehending, until Lance squeezed his hand. He reddened, color seeping into his cheeks when he realized that he was still holding onto him.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he released his hold and averting his eyes.

 

It was stupid and he knew it, but he wished he hadn’t said anything as his hand fell away. There was something comforting about his touch, something right. Pushing the thoughts away, Lance took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Stomach flipping, he walked over to the phone in the corner and dialed a series of numbers, waiting for several rings before a voice finally came over the line.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, it’s Lance. I need a favor.”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“I’m at the hospital and I need a ride back to my place. Can you handle that?”

 

“Of course,” George answered, “what happened?”

 

“Not important. I need you to stop over there first, actually, and pick me up two sets of clothes. I’m at Mt. Sinai in room two-fourteen. Thanks.”

 

He didn’t bother saying goodbye and just hung up, closing his eyes for a few seconds to focus himself. He hadn’t expected to talk to George again for a long while after their last conversation and, as it always did, speaking to his ‘family’ always made him nauseous.

 

“You alright?”

 

Lance turned, aiming a poorly constructed smile at Keith.

 

“I’m fine. How are you feeling, though? Can you sit up?”

 

Keith kept his gaze for several seconds, making it clear that he wasn’t buying it before he grabbed the elevation controls for his bed and began tilting it upwards. He was wincing by the time he was in a sitting position but after a few minutes he seemed to calm.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Lance tilted his head to the side, confused by the sudden question, when Keith looked up at him.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. You, on the other hand-”

 

“No, are you okay, Lance?”

 

The words died on his tongue.

 

“I’m… I’m getting there,” he answered honestly, “but there are things we need to talk about whenever we get out of here. I don’t think I’m going to be okay until after I get through that.”

 

“Okay,” Keith said simply, “okay.”

 

The nurse that Lance had met in his room joined them several minutes later with a bag filled with the wet clothes that Lance had been found in, Keith’s medication, and the discharge papers for the pair. It was another fifteen minutes before a series of soft raps sounded on the door to the room.

 

“Come in,” Lance called out.

 

George Alvarez let himself into the room and shut the door behind him, pausing momentarily when his gaze shifted from Lance to Keith.

 

“Well, that explains why you asked for two.”

 

He looked as though he’d come straight from a lecture, dressed impeccably in a black blazer and slacks that matched his brogues. Hanging on his arm was one of Lance’s high school duffle bags emblazoned with the blue lioness mascot.

 

“Thanks for getting here so quick,” Lance said with a forced, polite, smile as he took the bag, “if you’ll wait down in the lobby we’ll meet you down there.”

 

George looked like he was going to protest but he thought better of it, turning on his heel and shutting the door behind him. He’d looked concerned, but it was hard to tell if he was worried about Lance or just worried about whether or not his circumstances would impact him.

 

“Who was that?”

 

“The man who raised me,” he answered flippantly as he tossed the bag into a chair and began rooting through it, grabbing the bigger of the two shirts and a pair of basketball shorts from the bag, “can you put these on or do you need help?”

 

Keith looked back at the door and then shifted his gaze to Lance.

 

“You okay?”

 

“You can stop asking me that,” he rolled his eyes, tossing the clothes onto the bed, “I’m not fragile, I’m not going to break. Again, do you need help to put these on?”

 

“No I don’t need hel-”

 

The last syllable wheezed over Keith’s lips when he raised his arms to stretch, not even making it past his shoulder level before the pain set in.

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Lance said, moving over to him, “just let me help you so we can get out of here, okay?”

 

Keith mumbled several choice curses under his breath but allowed Lance to help him shift his body so that he could put his legs into the shorts he held out to him. After helping him stand, Keith tugged them the rest of the way up and turned so that lance could untie the single tie at his back keeping his gown on. Lance tugged on the string and the fabric fell in a pool at Keith’s feet that he stepped out of. When he was facing Lance again, the guilt he’d felt after waking hit him like a brick.

 

The entire side of Keith’s body, from his left hip to his collar, was painted various shades of black and blue. The dark shades were a stark contrast against his skin and he looked so battered that it had a sheen of tears forming in Lance’s eyes. _I did that,_ he thought as he averted his gaze, _I’m the reason that he’s hurt_. With gentle hands, he helped ease Keith’s left arm into the shirt first and then managed to help him the rest of the way into it. He was thankful that George had grabbed one of his bigger workout tanks so that Keith had some room.

 

After making sure that Keith was set, Lance made short work of his own gown and donned a pair of cargo shorts and a black t-shirt. He grabbed his duffle bag after shoving their paperwork and medication inside and then the pair started out for the lobby. Keith’s motions were slow and there was a thin sheen of sweat glistening across his forehead already by the time that they made it to the elevator. Lance kept a close eye on him the whole way down to the lobby, ready in case he needed help. George was seated near the door, his foot tapping a steady rhythm as he waited, his fingers loosely clasped in his lap. When he saw the pair of them making their way through the lobby, he was up and leading the way to his car, his gaze continuously shifting back to look over Keith.

 

“What have you gotten into, Lance,” George sighed heavily when he slid into the driver's seat, looking over his shoulder to watch as Lance helped Keith ease into the back.

 

“Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to know,” was all he said before he fell into the passenger seat of the Lexus and pulled the door.

 

The ride was relatively quick even with traffic and Lance didn’t know that he had ever been more relieved to be home when he got a glimpse of the white walls and burnished orange trim of his condo.

 

“Thanks for the ride.”

 

George reached out and took a firm hold of his forearm before he could slide out of the passenger seat, stopping him.

 

“Lance, are you in trouble?”

 

“It’s a little late for you to start caring now,” he muttered before he ripped his arm away, slamming the door behind him after grabbing the duffle bag at his feet and focusing on checking on Keith.

 

Keith’s breathing was irregular and unsteady as he unbuckled himself but he held up a hand when Lance made to help him out.

 

“I’m a little broken but I’m not dead,” he griped, slowly raising and shutting the door himself, “lets just get inside.”

 

Lance didn’t even look back at George, raising a hand to wave him off while he reached under the welcome mat for his spare key.

 

“Real secure,” Keith noted when he found it and unlocked the door.

 

“Anybody who wanted to break in would be sorely disappointed,” he snickered, pocketing the key and opening the door wide for Keith.

 

“No kidding…” he murmured as he looked around, “I expected more from a bestselling author.”

 

It wasn’t the first time that he’d heard that. His condo was small and, admittedly, not in the nicest part of town. The walls were the linen beige that didn’t come from a paint can, colored by the smoke of previous tenants and age, and the dark hardwood floor was scuffed in several places. His furniture was mismatched, the black leather recliner and sofa clashing with the ugly green micro suede chairs that he’d gotten from the old tenant, and there were no homey touches. Most people knew Lance as someone with a sensitive taste, he was the first to point out a horrible outfit after all, but when it came to his condo, he let the pretty trappings fall away. No one came to his home and, after a while, he’d given up on trying to impress the people in his life. There was no pretense here.

 

“My money goes to other things,” Lance shrugged, “maybe one day I’ll find a place and make it mine but, for now, this suits me fine. Come on, you should lay down. You can have my bed.”

 

Keith shook his head, “I can sleep on the couch-”

 

“I have a guest room, Keith, it’s no big deal. The mattress in the guest room isn’t as comfortable as mine, though, so I’d feel better with you in there.”

 

“I don't like running you out of your own bed,” he mumbled when Lance gave him a gentle nudge towards the hall.

 

“Yeah, well, too bad.”

 

Lance went in ahead of him to sit the bag down on the end of the bed and prop up several pillows against the headboard.

 

“Okay, lay down and I’ll go get you a drink so you can take your pills.”

 

“When did you get so bossy?”

 

“When I had to start looking after you. Now, lay down.”

 

Lance tried not to let his pleasure show at the sight of the small smile on Keith’s lips when he rolled his eyes and did as he was told, lowering himself onto the black and gold damask duvet. He didn’t leave immediately, no, he had to take a moment to store the image of Keith reclining on his bed, in his clothes, in his mind. He hated how much he liked the view. _He’s busted up and you’re thinking about how nice he looks in your bed_ , he thought. Internally berating himself for such selfish, indulgent, thoughts, Lance quickly left to get him a drink of water, grabbing the cordless phone on the way back.

 

“Take this.”

 

Handing him the glass of water, Lance took a seat at the foot of the bed, rooted around in the bag, and read the instructions on Keith’s painkillers. He handed one of the pills to him before he turned his attention to the phone.

 

“Do you know how to dial internationally?”

 

“Yeah I read about it once when I had to reach my editor when she was in Berlin. I have a decent memory. What’s the phone number for the Shiro’s place?”

 

Keith rattled off a series of numbers and Lance dialed, holding the phone up to his ear as it began to ring.

 

“Hello?”

 

He would have recognized that voice anywhere.

 

“Hey, Pidge.”

 

There was a sharp intake of breath.

 

“...Lance?”

 

There was a crack in her small voice, as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

 

“Yeah, it’s me-”

 

He was taken aback by the immediate change as she began yelling frantically into his ear.

 

“Where the hell have you been?! What happened out there? Nobody has been able to find anything out and there are Unseelie crawling all over the place and Shiro said that you and Keith disappeared and nobody knew if you were alive or dead or captured or-”

 

“Pidge.”

 

She stopped at the sound of her name and he could have sworn that he heard a hitch just before a small hiccup followed by a soft sob.

 

“Hey, hey,  it’s okay,” he promised, “Keith and I are both alive and fine for now. I promised that I’d do my best to stay safe, remember? Something weird happened and we wound up… Well, suffice to say that we’re safe. Keith got a little banged up during the fight and he has some broken ribs but otherwise he’s no worse for wear. Is Shiro there? We need to talk.”

 

“You’d better be glad that you’re both fine, otherwise I’d revive you just to murder you myself,” she sniffled loudly, “and yeah, I’ll go get him for you. One thing though?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Take care of Keith.”

 

Lance looked over to where Keith was watching him, thinking of how close things had been during the battle in West Lothian.

 

“Don’t worry, Pigeon, I’ll look after him.”

 

There was a watery chuckle before her forced haughty tone crackled over the line, “I’m _only_ going to let you get away with that because you’re okay.”

 

“Noted.”

 

“Okay, hold on.”

 

He could hear her footsteps as she moved through the manor and he was thankful that her sniffles were fading. Lance hadn’t expected her to care so much and, though a part of him told him that it was likely because he was her only chance at regaining the life she was losing, he wanted to believe it was because they were something like friends. He couldn’t deny that he was grateful for having met her-

 

Lance chuckled a little to himself.

 

-for having met _all of them_.

 

“Lance?”

 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Lance cleared his throat.

 

“Hey, Shiro.”

 

“Are you okay? What about Keith? Is he with you?”

 

“We’re both fine, relatively speaking. Keith has some broken ribs but otherwise he’s fine. Look, something happened and we woke up in the hospital.”

 

“Which hospital? We haven’t been able to find hide or hair of you two since-”

 

“Yeah,” Lance interrupted, “that’s because we’re in Miami.”

 

There was a pause as Shiro digested his words.

 

“Miami, Florida? You’re in the US?”

 

“...Yeah.”

 

“How? Tell me everything that you remember.”

 

“That’s a good question. You and Coran were holding off the last of those things and I saw Keith fall into the water so I managed to get to my feet and go after him when I didn’t see him come back up. I guess I was still messed up from that blast I took to the chest because when I got to where he was at the bottom of the reservoir, my whole body started to hurt and I couldn’t manage to get both of us back up…”

 

It was hard to talk about it without remembering it, without seeing it play out again in his mind, and a wave of chills overtook him.

 

“He had already stopped breathing and I thought we were both going to die but then something happened. It was like when I was standing in the middle of those pillars; I could see the answer. The water started rushing around us and, I don't know how, but I managed to keep Keith from drowning. I think I must have passed out because when I woke up the first time, we were laying on a beach. I wasn’t conscious long and the next time I woke up, I was in the hospital. That’s all I know.”

 

“At least you’re safe now. We had to… look for your bodies. When we didn’t find anything…”

 

“I know, I’m sorry to have worried you. Did you tell Hunk anything?”

 

“We told him that you went out sightseeing with Keith. We wanted to hold onto hope that you were still alive since we didn’t find anything and, if we had, we would have needed a few days to figure out what to tell him.”

 

“And he believed it? Sightseeing?”

 

“Not in the least, but he didn’t question it.”

 

“What do you want us to do?”

 

“I don't want you two anywhere near here for a little while now that I know you’re alright. There have been Unseelie posted around The Highland and scouring the streets and airport since the incident. I don't think you’d be safe here right now.”

 

“Keith’s ribs should take a few weeks to heal. We can lay low here for a while.”

 

“I think that sounds like the best course of action. If anything changes, I’ll call you at this number, okay? Are you going to be alright there?”

 

“Sounds good, and yeah we should be fine. Though, I don't suppose I could get you to send me my laptop and my wallet?”

 

“Not a problem. Can I speak to Keith?

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Lance handed him the phone.

 

“Shiro? Yeah, good to talk to you too. No, it’s fine, Lance is okay. Yeah, I’ll make sure we keep our heads down just in case. Let me know when the coast is clear. Yeah, okay. Stay safe and tell everyone to watch themselves, I’ll talk to you later.”

 

Keith handed him the phone after he disconnected and let out a long-winded sigh.

 

“You okay?”

 

Keith stared up blankly at the ceiling, gesturing vaguely with his right hand.

 

“Fine, I guess. I knew we shouldn’t have gone but I didn’t expect it to blow up like this. I think I’m just tired.

 

“Then why don’t you try to get some more rest? You could use it. I’ll leave the door open and you can call if you need anything. Sound good?”

 

Keith was silent for a few seconds before he nodded, “yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Lance.”

 

“It’s the least I can do,” he shrugged as he got to his feet, “you saved my life after all. Twice.”

 

“I guess I can’t feel too bad about stealing your bed then.”

 

“Guess not,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

 

Keith merely grinned as he managed to kick off his shoes and wiggle underneath the covers. Lance watched him for a few seconds, making sure he was alright, before he let himself out. Though the circumstances weren’t perfect, they were safe and that was something that he could hold onto. For now.

 

 


	12. True & Perfect

The following week was hard on Keith. As someone with the inability to stay still for long periods of time, forced bed rest was an absolute nightmare and, to make matters worse, it was still hard for him to navigate simple tasks on his own. The bruises marring his left side had dulled and lightened from their deep purples and blues to olive green and yellow, visible beneath his thin white tank top when he managed to stumble out of bed and shift the door enough to view himself in the mirror.

“Christ,” he murmured at the sight, combing the digits of his right hand through his mane of hair and running it over his ears to sooth the mused fur.

Most of the previous week had been spent in a state of half consciousness with a circadian rhythm like a coma patient and the cerebral processing ability of the undead. At first, he’d tried to wean himself off the pain pills but, after a severe cough had nearly rendered him unable to breath, he’d given into the temptation. His breaths came easier when he was medicated but his brain was foggy and his movements were sluggish and slow. Keith watched his reflection as he tried to lift his arm, gritting his teeth when the pain in his ribs began throbbing through the entirety of his chest, forcing him to let the limb fall back to his side.

Though his body healed faster than most, it was still a slow process and he had another week or so to go before he’d be able to function properly. He was tired of being less than one hundred percent. The only bright spot in his week of half-conscious misery had been Lance. Keith’s lips curled a little at the thought of how thoughtful he’d been even when all Keith had been able to do was mumble complaints before slipping back to sleep. When he noticed his slight smile in the mirror he blinked a few times and forced it down.

Lance… Lance wasn’t the man that Keith had thought he’d be. The first time they’d met, he’d painted an image of him in his mind as another cocky foreigner with more mouth than brain but, as they’d spent more time together, he’d gotten a glimpse past that put on to the man beneath. He was unsure of himself, still trying to find his own footing, and yet he was the first to reach out to someone else when they needed something. When he was recovering from being hit by that blast at the excavation site, he still managed to not only find Keith but to somehow keep him alive. His humor was, much to Keith’s dismay, irritatingly charming, and his smile could be disarming.

As if he’d known he was circulating in the ducts of Keith’s mind, Lance took that moment to pop into the bedroom. His hair had been artfully tousled and his smile was soft as he leaned in the doorway, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts.

“Nice to see you moving around instead of snoring all day.”

Keith rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the distinct hiccup in his pulse at the sight of him. He was wearing white shorts and sandals topped with a peach t-shirt with an image of a small cat’s head peeking out just above the single left breast pocket. A pair of sunglasses sat perched atop his head, pushing most of his hair back from his face at the sides but his bangs had been left free.

“I was getting tired of being… tired,” Keith muttered, “besides, I needed to move around.”

“Well, if you’re up to it, I thought I would take you out today.”

He felt his ears perk at the thought of finally getting some fresh air and his heart did a jaunty little tap dance at the way he’d phrased his words.

“I think I can handle it, what did you have in mind?”

Lance’s grin widened when he noticed his ears twitch and he straightened from the door frame.

“Lunch and maybe shopping for some clothes that actually fit you before you end up hulking out of mine.”

Lance unabashedly nodded at the tank top pulled tight over his frame and Keith felt his face heat as he cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, “that sounds good to me.”

Lance’s smile brightened, “awesome, let’s go.”

Keith fell in line behind Lance as they moved through his home, slipping on his ring and a pair of flip flops that Lance had provided. Trying not to grimace at the feel of naked feet and rubber straps, he waited for Lance to find his wallet and keys.

“Good thing I had Hunk drive us in his car to the airport,” he snickered as they walked outside and he unlocked the doors with his key fob.

“How do you think he’s doing? Have you talked to him,” Keith asked, immediately squinting through the blazing midday sun that burned brightly overhead while he walked to the passenger side of the black sedan.

Lance opened the door for him and stood alongside it until he was situated, gently closing it after him. It was a strange feeling to be taken care of, one that he certainly hadn’t gotten used to in the last week.

“He’s fine,” he answered as he flopped into the driver’s seat, “he’s, uh, under the impression that there’s something going on though.”

Immediately Keith looked over at him, remembering that he had decided that he didn’t want Hunk to be exposed to any of what they were up against, “you mean he knows about the dig stuff?”

Lance’s cheeks colored a little and he slid his gaze away from Keith’s as he turned the key and started the car, fiddling with the sun visor and setting his mirrors while he muttered, “not exactly… He thinks that there’s something going on, you know, between us.”

“What do you- Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that he was an idiot and that Shiro just sent you out to babysit me so I didn’t fall off of a cliff and die or something.”

“Smooth,” Keith deadpanned before cozying into the leather of his seat and letting his head loll back to the head rest, “real smooth.”

“What was I supposed to say?”

Keith opened his mouth and then promptly closed it. He had absolutely _no_ idea what he would have said had the situation been reversed.

“That’s what I thought,” Lance said, pulling his glasses down to shield his eyes before shifting into reverse, his arm snaking up to rest on the edge of Keith’s seat.

It was impossible not to watch him as he pulled the car out of the parking place, his profile bared to him while he focused. The thin arms of his aviators reached past his temples to disappear in the thick chestnut hair as they settled into place, obscuring his eyes. Keith allowed himself a few seconds to appreciate the view. He had never really noticed the soft line of his jaw before or how perfectly it balanced out the angle at his chin and his narrow pert nose. His fingers brushed Keith’s shoulder as he shifted and the feel of his fingertips against his skin sent an instant static shock skittering across his flesh.

 _Why_ , he thought to himself as he looked down at the goosebumps raising across his arms, _why does he affect me like this_? His mind ventured back to the way he’d let his guard down in the gym at the manor and how he’d taken that hit to the gut. He thought about how he’d told him to keep the gym clothes he’d lent him just because a part of him liked the idea of his scent marking him. He thought about how warm his chest had gotten when Lance had let it slip that he ‘wasn’t too bad to look at,’ and the pleasure he’d felt when he’d woven his fingers through his hair.

“You okay?”

He’d been too busy thinking about their interactions to notice that Lance was looking at him, brows raised, while he let his arm fall to the center console. His eyes were sharp behind the tinted lenses, roaming his face for any hint of pain or discomfort and there was a touch of worry in his voice.

“Yeah, fine.”

“If you don’t feel up to it we can go back in-“

“I’m fine, Lance,” Keith said, a little more forcefully than he’d meant to.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

 

* * *

 

 

Miami, Keith discovered very quickly, was an entirely different creature than Edinburgh. Lance chauffeured him through the streets of his city with the windows rolled down, the car filled with a mixture of recent chart toppers and foreign music that he couldn’t understand the words to. People roamed both sides of the streets in various states of dress, men in classic polos and khakis mingling with bikini clad beach goers, and groups of sidewalk musicians played beneath the burning rays of a southern sun. The air was heavy with the spray of salt and the scent of street food. There was a rhythm here, a pulse that beat beneath sand and waves, that vibrated beneath the asphalt and neatly trimmed vistas, and made the city feel alive and exotic.

He wasn’t used to such a bright, hot, environment but the warm air flowing through the open windows as they drove set him as ease. There was something about being there, being there with him, that allowed him to let the stress he’d been compiling the last few weeks melt away little by little. Lance didn’t talk much while he drove, his eyes focused on the road, but every so often he’d let his gaze slide over to Keith and he’d beam him a relaxed smile; he was at home and it was hard not to be pulled in by the sheer joy on his face as he cruised the streets.

Lance took him by several different clothing stores and pretended to browse the shelves while he watched him like a hawk. He would appear to be focused on finding clothing for himself but, as Keith moved around the store, he could practically feel his gaze burning a hole through his skin. Keith ignored it for a while before, finally, he stopped shifting through the rack in front of him and sent him a glare.

“Dude, what?”

Lance deliberately took his time responding, as though the horrifyingly neon teal shirt in his hands really warranted that much consideration.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you’ve been watching me for half an hour. _What_?”

“You buy clothes like you’re in mourning.”

“What?”

“They’re all black,” Lance clarified, rolling his eyes and nodding his head towards the stack of clothing that Keith had chosen and hung up at the end of the rack, “you go immediately for black t-shirts and jeans.”

Keith shrugged a shoulder, “black doesn’t stain, besides, everything goes with black.”

“Oh, like more black?”

He couldn’t help but snicker at his obvious disdain.

“Exactly.”

“It’s killing me to watch this.”

“Then stop watching.”

“How can I? You’re like an infant! If I look away you might get yourself into trouble and, I don’t know, buy a fedora or something.”

“Lance,” Keith sighed, exasperated, “why the _hell_ would I buy a _fedora_?”

Lance put down the shirt and waved a hand around dramatically, “because, obviously, you’re a high school emo.”

 _He’s so **ridiculous**_ , Keith groaned to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine, why don’t _you_ tell me what you think is better then, O Wise Fashionista.”

“I thought you’d never ask-“

“-wasn’t planning on it.”

“Trust me, Keith, you’ll be glad you did. First off, you’re in Miami and you probably noticed that it’s hot as balls. Black is fine in the heat if it isn’t super thin and there’s a breeze but otherwise you need lighter colors. Convective cooling and reflection.”

“Who just knows that?”

Lance shrugged as he nudged Keith to the side and took over peering through the racks, “I read it in middle school.”

“That’s a long time to remember something like that.”

“I keep telling you that I have an excellent memory.”

Defeated and resigned, Keith watched as Lance pawed through the clothing, occasionally reaching up to push the sunglasses further onto his head to keep the hair from obscuring his eyes. He watched him pick out a mound of clothes before he leaned back and appraised his pile, nodding to himself.

“Okay, go try these on.”

Lance gave him a tank top, a loose button up, and a pair of shorts off the top, hanging them over right arm before he gestured towards the fitting rooms.

“If those fit then everything else should, too. Lemme see before you change out of them.”

Keith mumbled, “right,” under his breath as he made his way into the dressing room.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” he sighed to himself, shaking his head at the reflection of himself in the nearest of the three mirrors.

He had to admit that Lance made good points about the clothing. Keith was used to cooler temperatures and constantly changing, though regularly cloudy, days. If he was going to be holed up in heatwave hell, he couldn’t continue to dress in warm clothing unless he wanted to fry. Keith tugged off the tank and shorts that he had arrived in and began the arduous task of sliding into the clothes that Lance had picked out for him. The shorts were the easiest thing to get on, though the act of bending and tugging had his left side screaming for mercy. It was after he had gotten the tank top on that he hit the snag. While loose, the button up was hard to shrug into and the ache from putting on the shorts was only intensified when he had to lift his left arm.

Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, he steeled himself and jerked his arm upwards; the pain was instant and immense. An undignified groan passed his lips and his legs shook, sending him down onto the bench to the left. His breaths were shallow, cut short to a near wheeze, and he closed his eyes against the pulsating throb in his chest that radiated through his entire torso and down his arm.

“Keith!”

The door opened out of nowhere, startling him, and Lance burst through it.

“I heard you from out there, are you okay? Is it your side?”

All he could manage was a nod while he took a moment to breath, watching Lance’s worried gaze flicker over his form with no small measure of guilt.

“I’m sorry, I should have known that this was wasn’t a good idea-“

“Stop.”

Lance’s mouth closed.

“It was my own fault… Should have asked for help.”

“What can I do?”

“Just tell me if this stupid outfit looks okay so that I can take it off now,” Keith answered with a wry smile, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Lance breathed a sigh of relief and held out a hand, pulling him to his feet as cautiously as he could. His touch was gentle but firm and he held the contact several seconds longer than he needed to as though he were reaffirming to himself that Keith was alright.

“It looks great,” he said after a moment, releasing his hand and raking his eyes down the thin white long sleeve, black tank, and light grey cargo shorts, “a little black is fine but all black is a drag. Not to brag, but I do good work.”

Keith rolled his eyes but he felt the little pitter-pat in his chest again at the appreciation in Lance’s expression as he looked him over.

“Yeah,” he found himself saying, “you do alright.”

“Mmmhmm, I knew you’d see it my way! Oh, I actually got something else that I think you’ll like, hold on!”

Lance darted out of the dressing room and then quickly reappeared, brandishing a pair of vibrant red Converses.

“I noticed you aren’t a sandals or flip flop kinda guy so when I saw these I thought of you. They’re half a size bigger than those,” he said, gesturing towards the discarded flip flops, “so I think they should fit you.”

“I love Chucks,” Keith admitted, taking the shoes and turning them to check the size, “and they’ll definitely fit. Thanks, Lance, these are great.”

He smiled a little to himself when he noticed Lance’s hand rise to rub absently at the back of his neck like it always did when he was praised.

“It’s nothing. Anyway, I’ll let you change back and then we can get some lunch and head home-“

“Wait-“

Keith cleared his throat.

“-uh, could you help me with this shirt?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, turn around.”

Obeying, he turned his back towards Lance and faced the mirror on the wall opposite the door. The area was small and it felt like each second that they stood there together caused the walls to close in a little further. There was a thickening in the air, a crackling tension that neither addressed though they both knew it was there. Keith watched Lance in the reflection as he brought his hands around him to grab the open sides of the shirt, pulling back to tug it off of his shoulders before sliding the material down his arms. He felt his throat go dry when he noticed Lance’s gaze remain on him, sliding along his skin.

Lance finally looked away from his form, though, when his head lifted, it was to meet Keith’s gaze in the mirror.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” he said, voice softer, a little deeper; intimate.

“Yeah.”

Keith waited until he left and closed the door before he blew out a breath of relief. Looking back over at his ruffled reflection, he couldn’t help but sigh once more. Of all people, why did he have to be attracted to Lance McClain?

 

* * *

 

 

The pair returned to Lance’s home a little over an hour later, stuffed near to bursting after enjoying lunch and gelato in midtown. The afternoon sun seemed like it had gotten even hotter and Keith was eternally grateful for the multiple air conditioners that greeted him with frigid air when they crossed the threshold. His body ached from the trip and the stress he’d put on his side but he felt better for having gotten out of bed and out of the house. Instead of shuffling towards the bedroom, he gingerly let himself sink down onto the recliner, the buttery soft leather enveloping him as he gently kicked out his leg rest.

“Comfy?”

Keith nodded when Lance returned from the bedroom with his pill bottle in his hand, shaking one out and handing it to him before moving into the kitchen to grab him a drink of water.

“Very,” he said when he handed him the glass.

Lance fell onto the sofa and promptly stretched out his body, resting his head on the arm while he let his ankles rest on the arm at the other end.

“Tired?”

“A little,” Lance admitted, rubbing at his chest, “my whole body sorta aches but, hey, that’s what happens when you take a giant angry purple energy beam to the chest right?”

“Thanks.”

“Huh? Where’d that come from? What are you thanking me for?”

“For taking care of me even though you’ve been having a hard time too.”

Lance gave a dismissive wave of his hand before he let it fall onto his stomach, “it’s nothing, don’t mention it-“

“-don’t tell me that it’s nothing, Lance. You were hurt and you still came after me. You’re still not one hundred percent and here you are, making sure that I’m on a ‘proper’ medication schedule and checking up on me around the clock.”

“You took care of me,” he said after a moment, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, “so I take care of you.”

Keith didn’t know how to respond to that. During the long course of his life, he’d rarely met anyone who offered kindnesses without motive or expectation and to have Lance say that so easily was truly indicative of the man that he was. Keith thought about those words for a few minutes.

“Lance?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“Could you tell me exactly what you remember about what happened? I know what you told Shiro but I got the feeling that there was more to the story that you didn’t mention.”

In truth, Keith had been thinking a lot about Lance’s retelling of the story when he had the capability to do so. The entire incident was blank for him after he’d fallen into the reservoir but there was something about the minute changes in Lance’s expression when he spoke of it, the way his gaze would linger on the floor and the way that he bit his lip, that lead him to believe that his version was purposefully clipped.

“I didn’t tell him everything because I’m still trying to figure out exactly what it was that I did. It was so strange…”

“When did it get strange?”

“It was right after I found you near the bottom of the reservoir. I had just gotten a hold of you and I was trying to swim back to the surface but my body was still weak from that blast and I locked up in pain. I was terrified and I started to panic when I realized that both of us were going to drown but then I remembered something. It was like when I was standing above those pillars, I could see imagine symbols behind my eyes. I heard a voice that sounded like my own speaking to me and I understood what I needed to do.”

“Can you repeat what you heard?”

Lance shook his head, tilting his face to the left so that he could look over at him, “it was a strange language, like nothing I’ve ever heard before, and it wasn’t like I understood it traditionally so much as my body just sort of acted on its own, I guess.”

Keith nodded, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it. What happened next?”

Lance turned his face away, staring up at the ceiling as he spoke.

“I started chanting something and, before you ask, I have no idea what it was; it was like my body was on autopilot and knew exactly what to do. I don’t know how the hell I didn’t drown but I could feel this, I don’t know, _energy_ , filling my body. I put my hand on your chest and it was like my skin was glowing; there was a blue glow coming up from my fingers. Then…”

He paused again and Keith thought he saw a faint blush staining his cheeks.

“Then what?”

Lance cleared his throat, “then I kissed you. I mean, it wasn’t _really_ a kiss because I just had to pull the water out of your lungs but I still had to put my mouth on you. Anyway, I got the water out of your lungs and, somehow, I restarted your heart. The water started to move around us like a whirlpool and I was immediately exhausted so I guess I blacked out because the next time I came to, we were lying on the beach.”

Keith was quiet for several long minutes as he digested Lance’s story, his brain frazzling at the edges after the way he’d said that he’d kissed him. It had taken a mountain of effort to push past that little admission to sort through the rest of his words. Lance turned his head towards him again, cheek pressed against the arm of the couch he was sprawled out on. The touches of pink still lingered on his skin.

“That’s what happened.”

“I think you might have tapped into your partial fae form.”

“I… I have one of those? But I’m only half!”

“Right, but even so you still retain fae blood. Halflings don’t appear fae because of the dilution of their fae blood but, when they tap into their power, they change. Of course, they can’t hold the form because the manifestation would take too much energy. Somehow, I think you managed to tap into whatever abilities your fae parent passed to you.”

Lance let his legs slide off the end of the couch, raising himself into a sitting position and leaning against the arm that he’d been resting his head on. It was a terrifying thought at its core, that he held that kind of power. He had revived someone, kept them from dying when their fate had been all but sealed, and to know that power lay within him… Countless men, women, and children had died due to the elitism and struggle that came with holding such power, the thirst for control and dominance. He looked down at his hands, opening and closing, and thought once more just how completely insane his situation continued to become.

“What do you think my fae half is? Is there any way for me to know?”

“Sorry, but there’s no way to know unless you know what your parent was.”

“Oh.”

One more question to add to the ever-growing pile teetering precariously in the back of his mind.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter,” he said after a few seconds, “all that matters is that we’re okay. I suppose I should be thankful for my fae half.”

He smirked a little, surprised at himself that he would think of his fae blood as anything more than a curse. Looking up, he felt the smirk fall away; Keith was making that face again. It was something that he’d noticed before, what looked like disdain and uncertainty always fell about him like a darkened veil whenever fae were brought up. The last time that he’d seen that expression, it had been intensified by his trepidation.

“Can I ask _you_ something?”

The crease between his brows softened when he looked up at Lance and he forced a neutral expression, replacing the deep frown he’d worn only seconds before.

“What’s up?”

“Why did you hesitate when we were on the field? Does it have something to do with what happened in the gym or do you just not like to change?”

Keith’s entire body stiffened and his lips pressed tightly together, forming a flat line.

“That’s not important-“

“Yes, it is,” Lance quickly interjected, “whatever it is was important enough to make you hesitate in the middle of battle, in the face of possible serious injury or death. Whatever the reason, it is important because I know it’s a big deal to you and, before you say it’s none of my business, remember that I trust my life to you. I’m not here to judge you, Keith, but I can’t understand if you don’t tell me.”

He still thought about the two of them in the gym of the manor sometimes, about how easily they’d spoken and how kind Keith had been. Mostly, though, he thought about the feel of his thick, silky, hair, the soft fur of his ears, and his deep, rumbling, purr. Keith remained silent for a while and when he finally spoke he spoke slowly, as though he were carefully choosing each word.

“Shifting isn’t something to be taken lightly,” he told him, raising up in his seat a little, “there’s a theory with Cat Siths that states that we can’t shift more than eight times. If I shift a ninth time, I risk losing the ability to shift back.”

“Wait, you mean if you shift nine times you’re stuck like that? For good?”

Keith nodded, jaw clenched tight, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the arm of the recliner.

“But wait, you said that it’s a theory. So you’re not sure?”

“Nobody is sure.”

“How is that possible?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Because talking to you is like pulling teeth sometimes,” Lance quipped easily in response to Keith’s irritated growl, “if I don’t ask you won’t tell me.”

“It’s not something I like to talk about.”

“I know, I get it, but you need to; it’s eating at you. Besides, I answered your question truthfully.”

Lance knew he’d won when Keith let out a defeated half-chuckle and uttered a familiar phrase, “is that what this is? Tit for tat?”

Lance winked, “if that’s what it takes.”

“Ugh.”

“I know, I’m the worst.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, why don’t we know for sure if it’s true? Do the other Cat Sith know?”

“Lance, I’ve never met another Cat Sith and, as far as I know, there aren’t any on this side of the gate.”

“What? How is that possible? What about your parents?”

“It’s not that simple. We aren’t born from two Cat Sith parents; we’re an abnormality. The gene is recessive and very rare so, as you can imagine, it’s not like I can just go find another and ask. The information you can find in any history is so vague when it comes to us that it’s completely useless.”

“And your parents couldn’t tell you anything either?”

Even from his place, Lance could see the darkening in Keith’s eyes.

“I never knew my parents. As far as castes go, Cat Sith are on the lowest rungs. My parents were horrified that they’d given birth to me and they gave me up shortly after I was born. Fae are often elitist and most don’t consider my kind as kin, they assume that we’re just mildly sentient beasts. It doesn’t help that most Cat Siths are born to Unseelie fae.”

Lance didn’t notice that he’d clenched his fists until he felt the sting of his fingernails digging into his palm. To abandon a child because of something that they couldn’t control just to keep their own image untarnished was so low that he felt anger building swiftly to a boil within him.

“So,” Keith continued, “no one knows if it’s true or false, all we know is that there is a possibility that on the ninth shift, you’re stuck.”

“How many times have you shifted?”

“Six, now.”

He understood, then; Keith only had two more safe transformations left.

“Is that why you get upset whenever something cat-like happens or you’re referred to by your appearance?”

“Fae tend to think of you like a novelty,” Keith muttered, almost too low to hear, “especially when they think you’re beneath them.”

“So that’s why you freaked out in the gym? You thought I was going to make fun of you?”

“I’ve… I’ve never made that noise before and I guess I panicked.”

“…Was it really so bad? I liked it, I thought that it was nice to see you less burdened and relaxed. I thought that it was nice to have something to tell me that you were comfortable with me since I know you wouldn’t have said anything. You’re not less of anything just because parts of you are feline. I’m sure that all fae have at least one insecurity, they’re not really that different from humans as much as I’m sure they’d like to believe it. I know that you probably don’t care much for what I think, but I like you exactly how you are.”

Determined, Lance stood up and walked over where Keith was still reclined before holding out his hand to him. He didn’t say a word and just waited until, very slowly, Keith reached out a tentative hand. When he laid his right hand in his own, Lance kept his eyes on the glittering blue-grey of Keith’s as he twisted the band on his index finger. A slow smile spread over his lips at the sight of his form, true and _perfect._

“Exactly how you are,” Lance repeated.

 

 


	13. Different

“Most people just make the same recycled cat jokes,” Keith managed a few minutes after he’d recovered from the shock of Lance’s words.

“I’m sorry,” Lance responded honestly, “I know that I did that, myself, at Shiro’s.”

“No, you didn’t know how I felt-“

“That’s not an excuse,” Lance quickly rebutted with a firm shake of his head, “that doesn’t let me off the hook. I’m sorry for being a jackass.”

“It’s okay, Lance, besides, how could you look past it as a human when even other fae can’t? It’s weird, I get it.”

“Weird?”

Visibly uncomfortable, Keith turned away, “yeah, weird. My appearance is on an entirely different level from everyone else’s.”

“I’m going to say something right now, Keith, and I want you to listen to it. If you interrupt me, I’m going to choke you with your own tail, got it?”

Keith brought his gaze back up and quirked a brow, an amused tilt lifting one side of his mouth.

“Okay.”

 “I don’t like the way that you look because it’s odd or weird or strange; I’m not like those people, you’re not a novelty to me. I like it because it’s very _you_. It doesn’t define who you are but it does compliment it. You’re tough and strong willed, determined, agile, and you pack one hell of a roar. To me, the way that you look…” Lance laughed self-consciously, realizing how cheesy his words were even as he spoke them, “…I just think that it’s perfect. If I ever say anything that makes you feel uncomfortable about yourself, promise me that you’ll say something because that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

Keith shook his head with a small rueful chuckle before he nodded, “okay.”

His warm, affectionate, smile lingered and Lance allowed himself a second of indulgence, giving Keith’s hand a gentle squeeze and allowing his thumb to graze his fingers before he let it slide out of his grasp. His receptiveness to the stories that Lance had told about his family made sense to him now, as well as the small comments he made almost to himself; Keith, too, had grown up without the love of true family. Keith was still looking up at him, eyes searching his expression for… something.

“Lance…”

His voice was thick and he looked like he was about to say something else but thought better of it. Lance wanted to reach out to him, wanted to comfort him, to show him just how much he cared for him, but the last thing he wanted was to overcrowd or overwhelm him. It was there, though, fluttering in his chest like a manic butterfly; the urge to kiss away the bitterness and shame that he’d seen in his face when he’d spoken previously about his upbringing and fear. It was dangerous and the situation they were in didn’t leave room for the feelings he knew that he harbored for him.

“You should get to bed and get some sleep, Keith,” he said quietly, “if you need me, you know where I’ll be.”

It was better if he wasn’t so close to him, for the sake of his sanity and sense of self control. Lance turned his back to him and made his way to the guest room, grabbing his laptop off of the dresser as he passed it. Leaving the door open in case he was needed, he laid his computer on the bed and made quick work of his clothes, changing into a simple pair of silver boxers before he pulled back the covers and slid into bed. He was thankful that Shiro had sent the mail via express so that he’d finally gotten his laptop and wallet.

The first thing he did when he logged into his applications was notice that Hunk had sent him a message a few hours prior saying that he hoped that he was doing well and getting along with Keith. Lance scowled a little at the suggestive wink emoji that mockingly punctuated the end of the sentence. Though his status was set as offline, he made sure to send him a reply for when he woke. Lance let him know that things were going well and that they hadn’t killed one another yet. When he finished sending his message, he noticed a contact that he didn’t recognize had pinged in as ‘online’ and a new message promptly followed.

**HK38929** : don’t like skype, talk here instead. Password is SKACMKLH

Lance talked to very few people online and his contacts, for the most part, all used plays on their real names instead of hard-to-decipher screennames. Despite his trepidation, his curiosity won him over and he clicked on the link that he’d been sent. The link took him to a different messaging platform where he was prompted to input the password he’d been given. Once he’d hit enter, he found himself in a chatroom with someone he recognized immediately by their screenname.

 

* * *

 

_‘Guest’ has entered the room_

**  
Pidgeon:** Took long enough. Hurry up and pick your name already slow ass  
**ScotlandsMostWanted** : Calm down gremlin  
**Pidgeon:** 2 things- call me a gremlin again and I’ll kill you  & I can’t believe the name u picked lol  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** You’re right, we can’t all be as adorable as ‘Pidgeon’  
**Pidgeon:** remember that next time a bird shits on ur car  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** As long as it’s an actual pigeon doing the shitting  
**Pidgeon:** …  
**ScotlandsMostWanted** : I needed a distraction and this username made me laugh, sue me.  
**Pidgeon:** Trouble in paradise?  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** Nah its nothing. How is everything over there? How are you guys? How’s Hunk? **  
Pidgeon:** K I don’t believe u but glossing- Everything is fine for now & everybody is doing okay. Hunk seems kinda weird? Like, he’s not as worried as I thought he would be… Its like he’s not even really bothered by u disappearing with Keith **  
ScotlandsMostWanted:** I’m glad to hear. What about the Unseelie? Everybody safe? Are they still looking for me? And I’m not surprised about Hunk actually… He thinks Keith and I are an ‘item’ or something **  
Pidgeon:** those Unseelie fucks are still crawling all over the place but the numbers are def lower… I think that they know u two are hiding & LOLOLOLOL that’s gold! **  
ScotlandsMostWanted:** Ugh, shut up **  
Pidgeon:** Never. OK so how are u guys though really? Is he doing okay?  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** He’s fine, still hurting and mending pretty slow. I took him out of the house for the first time today to get him some clothes and food.  
**Pidgeon:** omg u took him on a date! Lance he broke his ribs how u gonna try to get booty like that **  
ScotlandsMostWanted:** It wasn’t a date! He was stretching out all my clothes and he was getting restless… You know how he is. NOTHING LIKE THAT HAPPENED OMG  
**Pidgeon:** Uh huh, u took him for food and shopping Lance, it was a date **  
ScotlandsMostWanted:** I hate you, it wasn’t like that **  
Pidgeon:** No u don’t and yes it was don’t lie to me **  
ScotlandsMostWanted:** I swear to god **  
ScotlandsMostWanted:** Apologize in advance to Matt for me **  
Pidgeon:** why  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** Because when I see you again I’m going to murder you. **  
Pidgeon:** LOL yeah right. Seriously tho, it’s pretty obvious that u two are kinda into each other. I mean, u practically eye-fuck each other when the other one isn’t looking.  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** Ugh.  
**Pidgeon:** Im actually pretty surprised… Ive never seen Keith like anybody before  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** How long have you known him?  
**Pidgeon:** since before u were born  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** Christ  
**Pidgeon:** not that long  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** Ha-ha. So… How old is he?  
**Pidgeon:** not my place to say but u should ask him. He would probably say. Im tellin you, he digs you.  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** What good does that do me though, Katie? He’s fae, I’m not, and there’s a target on my head.  
**Pidgeon:** Doesn’t matter who likes it and who doesn’t Lance, ur fae. Just because u aren’t all fae doesn’t mean that ur human either. We could all die soon, do u want that to happen without the two of u talking about it?  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** …  
**Pidgeon:** Talk to him then. Anyway I just wanted to check on u both  & make sure u were ok. Everybody is still pretty worried about u guys.  
**ScotlandsMostWanted:** How about we have a video chat tomorrow or something? That way everybody can be there and talk?  
**Pidgeon:** good idea, I’ll talk to everybody. Im going to bed so I’ll catch u later. Take care of Keith

_‘Pidgeon’ has left the room_

 

* * *

 

Keith laid still in his place on the recliner for a while before he finally got up from his seat. When he passed by the open door of the guest bedroom, he allowed himself a peek. Lance was laying on his side with his bare back to the door, the blankets bunched around his waist, humming to himself as he typed away on his laptop. He recognized the rhythm from one of the songs he’d heard when they were in the car together, remembering the way that Lance would belt out the lyrics and then hum the instrumental bits as he drove through the city. The slender line of his form looked so inviting, a glowing halo set about his bronzed skin from the late afternoon sunlight streaming in from the open blinds across the room from him. It took a great deal of willpower to turn away and keep walking down the hallway when what he wanted was to slide into the space behind him and gather him to his chest.

The pills that he’d taken had already begun taking effect and he yawned as he shimmied out of his shorts and carefully got into bed after moving the bags of clothes that Lance had left there. Though he wasn’t fond of such an erratic sleep schedule, he was thankful that they had the time to rest without worry. It wasn’t long after he curled up beneath the silky covers that he fell into slumber.

“No…”

Some hours later, as he lay sleeping, Keith’s ears twitched at the sound of what he thought might be a voice. He blinked against the darkness and waited for several long minutes. When he heard nothing else, he re-situated himself, snuggling back into the covers.

“…no!”

Keith shot up from the bed at the sound of a scream; it was Lance’s voice. Flinging the covers away from his body, he scrambled off of the bed, fur rising along his ears and tail.

“Lance?!”

Worry pumped through his blood as he raced down the hallway trying to shake the bleariness from his eyes and the possibilities from his mind as he stumbled and picked himself back up. When he turned into Lance’s room, he felt his fear evaporate.

“Please, please no-“

His hands were fisted in the blankets that he’d been thrashing around in, his pillows slung clear off of the bed. In the pale moonlight slipping in through the corners of his windows, Keith could see that his body was covered in a sheen of sweat. Lance’s jaw was clenched and he kept twisting, murmuring and whining in the back of his throat.

“Lance,” Keith called to him, flipping on the lamp on the nightstand before he leaned over the bed and put a hand to his shoulder, “hey Lance, wake up, it’s just a nightmare.”

Lance bolted upright at the touch of his hand and his head snapped to the side to look at him, fear glazed eyes leaking small rivulets of tears.

“Keith?”

“Yeah, I’m here. It was just a dream-“

Lance fell back against the mattress and slung an arm over his eyes but Keith noticed the slight quiver in his lip and the shake in the hand lying on his stomach.

“Thank god,” he whispered, the sound of his voice so small that it was nearly inaudible.

“Lance, are you okay?”

Keith took a seat on the bed and watched over him, worried as he continued to hide his face.

“Fine,” Lance said with a tiny, forced, grin, “too much stress I guess.”

“How about you look at me when you say that,” he prodded gently, reaching out to take a hold of his wrist and pull his arm away from his face.

The lamp light caught the trail of his shed tears and set them alight where they glittered at the corners of his eyes as he turned his face towards Keith. His smile was barely constructed and each second he tried to hold it left it collapsing like a jenga tower.

“I’m fine, really,” he tried again, “just a dream; sorry to wake you.”

Though he knew better, though in the back of his mind he was telling himself to go back to bed, Keith merely reached down to grab the pillows that had been slung off of the bed and then fluffed them up before positioning them so that he could slide his frame up alongside Lance’s. Keith left a few inches between their shoulders and turned his head to the right so that he could look at him.

“No, you’re not fine. You’ve been through a lot lately, Lance, and we’ve pushed pretty hard-“

Keith gave a slight shake of his head at his own words, turning his eyes to the ceiling as he thought about how tough he’d been on him initially.

“- _I’ve_ pushed you pretty hard to accept things that would be hard for anyone to try to rationalize.”

“That was what I needed, though,” Lance shrugged with a small sniffle, “otherwise I might have ran-“

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Keith shook his head, “that’s not who you are. You would have thought about running but you wouldn’t have gone through with it.”

“You have too much faith in me.”

“It’s well placed.”

“But,” Lance’s words were softer, nearly a whisper, “what if I fail, Keith?”

When Keith looked over at him, he noticed a sheen of new tears in Lance’s eyes, the blue of his iris’ like a shimmering sea as the tears welled and magnified the color.

“Hey, now,” he said, turning to his right side, “where’s that coming from? Is that what the dream was about?”

Lance was silent for a moment before he took a stuttering breath and nodded, “I dreamt about those monsters and chasing after you but I didn’t get there in time and you were… gone. I could see the others on the land but I couldn’t get out of the water. I had to watch them die.”

He lifted his gaze to Keith’s as the tears fell free, spilling over his lashes, “there was nothing I could do for any of you. What if I can’t help, Keith?”

His voice grew quiet again.

“What if I can’t save you?”

There was so much despair, so much heartache and fear in his words that it very nearly broke Keith’s heart. After all that he’d suffered, after all that he knew had come crashing down around him, he still worried for others over himself. Lance had comforted him when he’d opened up and there had been nothing but kindness and honestly behind his words as he’d soothed some of his own fears. There was a lump in Keith’s throat and he couldn’t speak past it so he did the only thing he knew to do.

“C’mere,” he whispered, sliding his right arm beneath Lance’s shoulders.

Lance didn’t resist, turning onto his side and curling close while Keith rubbed one comforting hand down his back while the other pressed his cheek to his shoulder. Keith dropped his head so that he could rest his cheek against Lance’s temple, free hand finding Lance’s where it was spread over his heart after he wiped the tears from his cheeks. Keith could feel the cold chills rising on Lance’s body as he touched him and he smiled a little; he felt it too. He was so warm against him and there was something so incredibly right about the way that they fit together. There was a tickle at his shoulder as Lance rubbed his cheek over him, his short stubble pricking at him and his cold sweat rubbed onto him but Keith paid it no mind as they lay together. Skin to skin, they were so close that he could feel his heart beating erratically against his side. Keith gently grasped his wrist, fingertips rubbing circles across his skin, and just held him close in silence for a long moment before he spoke.

“We all know that there’s a chance for failure, Lance,” he said softly, “but that’s not on you. It’s also possible that there is no way to open the path back. All you can do is give it your best and not give up.”

“I couldn’t handle it if-“

“No ‘if’s, Lance,” he said firmly, squeezing his wrist, “you can’t think about that. Trust us; trust me.”

He, himself, had spent enough time pondering the ‘what-if’s to know how mentally draining it could be.

“I trust you, Keith.”

Keith continued rubbing Lance’s back, reveling in the feel of his silky soft skin beneath his fingers.

“I trust you too, so don’t let me down. If you start to feel the pressure just let me know, okay? I’m here for you Lance.”

He was surprised by the bitter chuckle that wound its way past Lance’s lips.

“What are babysitters for, right?”

Narrowing his eyes, Keith lifted his head.

“Look at me.”

When Lance didn’t obey, Keith pulled the arm on his back up towards his shoulders and put his fingers beneath his jaw, forcing his face upwards.

“Look at me, Lance.”

After a few seconds, he met his eyes.

“You’re right, it’s my job to look after you and make sure that you’re safe. Do you know what isn’t included in my job description? Telling you about myself, playing nice, and making sure you’re okay after a nightmare scares the shit out of you. I’m not laying here holding you because it’s my job, Lance, I’m holding you because I don’t like to see you hurt. I’m holding you because I don’t like what this situation is doing to you either. I’m holding you because I care about you and it’s all I’ve been able to think about for days; if that’s a problem for you then tell me and I’ll leave.”

He steeled himself, ready to disentangle himself from Lance if he uttered those words. In the depths of his chest he felt his heart beat an unsteady rhythm, fearing that he might send him away. Was it possible that he’d been so focused on his own feeling that he’d only imagined seeing it mirrored in Lance?

“Please don’t go.”

Before he could say a word in response, Lance stretched and placed his lips to the underside of his jaw, the touch leaving his skin heated and tingling. After he pulled away and laid his head back on his shoulder, Keith let his head fall back against the pillow with a strangled groan, shivering at the touch while he began rubbing his back again.

“That wasn’t a license to kill me,” he joked lamely with a sigh, “I’m tough but I don’t think that I’m strong enough to withstand you.”

That seemed to amuse Lance whose expression had brightened, his smile sly. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that Keith assumed he should be wary of but it was a more welcome sight than his fear.

“Surely one kiss won’t short out your heart old man.”

Keith opened his mouth and then closed it, turning a narrow-eyed glare to him.

“Did you just call me _old_?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“How do you know how old I am?”

“I don’t, Pidge just said that you two have known each other longer than I’ve been alive. Can I ask how old you are?”

He made a mental note to string Pidge up by her hair the next time he saw her. After the turn around in his demeanor, he was reluctant to deny him. _When did I get so soft_ , he thought, exasperated.

“Two hundred and twelve.”

“You’re joking.”

When Keith merely raised a brow in response, Lance let out a low whistle.

“Shit, you’re not joking.”

“I’m actually the second youngest in the manor; Pidge is the youngest.”

“I mean… I know you guys are these otherworldly immortal beings and all but when somebody tells you that they’re over two hundred years it’s still a pretty hard thing to believe.”

“Says the guy who got chased around by skinless ghouls and a monster wearing a dead guy suit before nearly drowning while somehow reviving someone who had _actually_ drowned. Your _life_ is hard to believe at this point, you should just get used to crazy.”

“A sad, new, fact of life,” Lance chuckled.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re pretty hot for an old guy.”

Keith couldn’t help the sputter of laughter.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You don’t look a day over one hundred and two.”

“Why you little ass-“

He knew better, they both did, but the moment was simply too wonderful to end. With a smile brighter than the shine of a thousand stars, Lance beamed at him as he pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned forward. Keith knew he should stop him, put an end to what was happening, but nevertheless he found himself meeting Lance halfway. He’d been thinking about it nonstop, what it would feel like, what it would taste like to have his lips. Lance was a full-bodied sweetness that clung to one’s skin, like maraschino cherries or the mango gelato that they’d eaten earlier in the day, and it filled every recess of Keith’s mind. Lance’s arms rose up around his neck, his fingers burrowing into his hair and grazing his ears. All that existed in that moment was Lance, the feel of his heating skin and the hesitant parting of his lips beneath his tongue.

Lance was the first to pull back, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted as he took several deep breaths. His heavy-lidded gaze had Keith’s body humming, the look of desire in his eyes unmistakable and incredibly erotic.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“It’s so hard to stop though.”

“I know.”

“We can’t do this again.”

“I know.”

“Say that again and I’m going to punch you in the ribs.”

With a sigh, Keith threw his legs off of the side of the bed and scooted to the edge, leaving Lance on the other side watching him with his plumped lips in a reluctant pout.

“It’s my fault in the first place, Lance.”

“Don’t,” Lance commanded with a fierce shake of his head, holding up a hand as though to physically defend against his words, “don’t even start like you’re going to apologize. I don’t want apologies for this, this was… This was perfect. It’s just that we both know better and this situation is bullshit and…”

There was a self-deprecating chuckle.

“…and even if you look past the fact that you’re my babysitter, it’s against your customs and fae kill for less. I just… I just wish it was different. I wish _we_ were different.”

“Us being different is why we’re in this mess in the first place,” Keith couldn’t help but say, earning a small, bitter, smile from Lance.

“Yeah. Thank you for staying with me, Keith; I mean it.”

“Anytime, Lance. Get back to bed.”

“Somehow I don’t think I’m going to get much sleep now.”

“Yeah, me either,” Keith replied, taking one last look at him before he forced himself to leave the room.

He hated leaving him there, the sadness lingering just behind his forced resolve. Lance’s words rattled around in his brain for a long while afterwards; ‘ _I wish we were different_.’ True to their words, neither man got much sleep that night, both lost in thoughts of what could have been and wishes of what could be.

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Curiouser & Curiouser

_ STOP IMPLYING THAT THINGS ARE GOING ON. THINGS ARE NOT GOING ON. We’re doing well (by which I mean we haven’t murdered each other yet) and I’m getting a lot of good information. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine and I’ll be back soon. _

 

Hunk allowed himself a smile at the indignant response that his little jab had garnered. He didn’t respond to Lance’s message and instead closed the laptop and packed it away in its carrying case before he got down from where he was sitting cross-legged on the bed and slid the laptop under the bed. In truth, he wasn’t worried for Lance, not really. Grabbing his gold robe from the hook behind the door, he shrugged it on and slid his feet into a pair of fuzzy house shoes that Allura had given him.  He was tired of being cooped up in the bedroom and he knew that everyone had retired to their rooms for the evening.

 

Quietly, he let himself into the hallway and padded down the corridor, heading straight for the front door after he’d descended the staircase. There was an odd energy in the manor, clinging to the corners and the shoulders of each of his hosts like a mantle of uncertainty and restlessness. Ever since they’d stolen out in the dead of night and come back without Lance and Keith, things had been tense. As stealthily as he could, he closed the front door behind him and began towards the side of the home. The cold clawed past the thick fibers of his robe and chilled his skin, giving him more cause to envy Lance and Keith.

 

Another smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he padded along the path through the garden and crossed his arms over his chest to keep in some of his warmth. When Shiro had come to tell him that Lance had decided to investigate some of the surrounding counties and historical sites for his next novel, Hunk had simply smiled and nodded as though he didn’t know Lance better than that. As another breeze blew past him, he mumbled a few choice words his mother would have smacked him for and hurried over the walkway to the gazebo situated past the garden. There was little comfort to be found in the cold bench but he sighed happily upon sitting nonetheless.

 

It had been a week since he’d seen his best friend, a week since he’d somehow managed to end up back home in Miami. It was almost comical that his hosts put so much effort into concealing his whereabouts when he’d known sooner than they had where he’d gone. There were still questions that he couldn’t answer, like how and why he’d gone back home, but he knew enough not to worry about him. Much. The upside to whatever situation that he’d gotten himself into was that he was in it alongside Keith, someone Hunk had always had a good feeling about. As far as his instincts were concerned, Hunk’s gut feelings had always been reliable. So, as long as Lance wasn’t alone, Hunk could at least manage to sleep at night without too great a fear.

 

Leaning against the railing of the structure, Hunk wondered about Lance’s significance. He would be the first to praise him and spout his various accomplishments but this went beyond mere merit or skill. There was something about Lance that made him different, something that had always made him different; something that had been so important that it had gotten Hunk pulled into its orbit of influence. He wondered often to himself, with varying levels of amusement, if his best friend wasn’t the lost heir to some tiny kingdom that he’d never heard of.

 

Vibration from the pocket of his robe cut him from his thoughts and he was quick to reach for the burner phone. He didn’t bother checking the ID, he didn’t need to; there was only one person who had his burner number and, likewise, there was only one programmed number in the phone. He didn’t speak, instead he sat in silence as he flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear. The voice on the other end, full-bodied and resonant, was familiar.

 

“We meet in one week. Inform your hosts of my arrival and be sure to tell them all that you know, including how you know me and what I’ve asked from you. You have nothing to fear from them. Be well, be vigilant.”

 

There was a distinct ‘click’ as the call was ended and Hunk shoved the phone back into his pocket without a word, pushing up from his seat on the bench. His movements were jerky as he made his way back to the path, nausea settling firmly in the pit of his stomach.  He’d known that there would come a day when his deeds would come to light but he hadn’t imagined it would have come so soon.

* * *

 

 

The following day, Lance spent most of his time in his bedroom. If pressed, he would have said that he was waiting to hear from Pidge but the truth of it was that he was doing his damnedest to stay away from Keith outside of making sure he was taking his pills. All he could think about was his own boldness, Keith’s unwavering support, the way he’d tasted on his lips, and how those small touches had felt like they’d singed his flesh. Whenever the thought crossed his mind he could feel his body react, heat pooling in the depth of his abdomen and languidly sluicing down to his groin. Against his better judgement, he’d allowed himself to close his eyes and imagine what it might have been like if there hadn’t been some looming threat of disaster in the background. How would his fingers feel grazing his bare skin? How would he sound with Lance’s lips on his thighs?

 

“Ugh!”

 

Exasperated with his torturous train of thought, Lance fell back against the mountain of pillows, gritting his teeth near to dust. That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about after they’d both agreed that it was for the best if it never happened again. He was thankful for the distraction of a “ping!” that signaled a new instant message. Pulling his forgotten laptop onto his lap, he squinted against the brightness of the screen and clicked on the blinking icon.

 

**HK38929:** No chat, something came up. Call Shiro  **ASAP** .

 

Dread slithered through his chest, it’s icy tendrils curling around his bones and chilling his blood as the worst possible thoughts filtered through his brain. Had something happened? Was someone hurt? Bolting upright, he reached for the phone he’d left on the bedside table and began dialing the long series of numbers from memory. There were several connections and pauses as the call finally went through and when it was picked up, it was Shiro on the other end.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, Shiro, It’s Lance-“

 

“You have two tickets on reserve for you at Miami International. You leave for Edinburgh in a week.”

 

“Shiro, what’s going on-“

 

“Make damn sure both of you are on that plane Friday, Lance.”

 

There was no mistaking the ‘click’ from the other end. Putting the phone back down on the table, Lance furrowed his brow and felt his uneasiness grow, the lack of information making it easy to construct the worse scenarios. What could have happened that had made him sound so clipped and terse?

 

“Lance? Were you talking to Shiro?”

 

Lance slid off the bed and headed for the living room where Keith was laid out in the recliner reading one of his novels that he’d found lying around somewhere. His eyes drifted from the page as he walked into the room and he sat the book down at his side once he saw his expression.

 

“Hey, is everything okay?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Lance answered honestly, perching on the arm of the nearest sofa, “I got a message from Pidge that said I needed to talk to Shiro ASAP. I called him and he said that we have two tickets at the airport and that we need to be on a plane back to Scotland on Friday.”

 

Keith pursed his lips, “did he say why? Did something happen?”

 

“Your guess is as good as mine, when I tried to ask him about it he just said to make ‘damn sure’ that we were on that plane on Friday and then he hung up on me. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.”

 

“If it were urgent he would have brought us back on a red eye tonight, more than likely,” Keith said after a few minutes of silence, “and it’s not like we can do anything about it. I’m sure if anything bad had happened we wouldn’t be on a flight back in a week, you know?”

 

Lance eyed him curiously but didn’t respond.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re calmer about this than I thought you’d be.”

 

The bartender had the nerve to smile.

 

“What, did you think I’m a hot head or something, ready to rush into action without any information?”

 

“…I mean, basically.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes and picked up the book again, flipping to the page that he’d dog eared, “I’m not that bad.”

 

“No, you’re not,” Lance murmured to himself, pushing off the arm of the couch.

 

He needed to do something, anything, to keep his mind off of Keith and Shiro’s message.

 

“You hungry,” he called out as he padded through the kitchen, checking the fridge.

 

“Yeah, you want to order something?”

 

“I was thinking I’d cook, if that’s okay with you,” he said as he pilfered through the items, “and stop making that face at me.”

 

“First, I’m not making a face, and second, you’re not even looking at me.”

 

“Don’t lie to me, I can feel a disturbance in the force.”

 

“Nerd.”

 

“You’re going to talk your way right out of a home cooked meal.”

 

It was hard not to smile at the amused sigh he heard from the living room.

 

“A home cooked meal sounds great, thank you. Do you need any help?”

 

Before he could answer, Keith was already in the archway of the kitchen entrance, watching him.

 

“No, that’s alright, you can go finish your book.”

 

Lance was keenly aware of Keith’s eyes on him as he moved around the kitchen, bringing ingredients from the refrigerator and lining them up along the short formica countertop. He didn’t speak, intent on ignoring his presence as he counted his ingredients.

 

“Do I make you nervous?”

 

Lance glared down at his hands as he covered them with soap, looking over his shoulder from where he stood in front of the sink.  _ Nervous, exasperated, achy, you name it, _ he thought to himself.

 

“Why would you think that?”

 

“Because you’ve avoided me all day and you’re having a hard time actually looking me in the eyes.”

 

“What do you want me to say, Keith,” he muttered as he rinsed off the suds, “that I don’t know how to act around you after last night? I thought it was pretty obvious.”

 

Tensing up at the sound of footsteps, Lance stilled.

 

“You didn’t have too much of a problem looking at me last night.”

 

With an aggravated hiss, Lance turned and found himself nearly chest to chest with Keith who was watching him closely, his tail swishing about behind him.

 

“I didn’t have problems with a lot of things last night.”

 

“We can’t tiptoe around each other Lance, there’s just no way with our situation.”

 

“What do you want from me, Keith? I don’t know how the hell to deal with this! I’m just trying to do my best to ignore whatever  _ this, _ ” he gesticulated at the space between them, flinging water droplets from the tips of his digits, “is. So, if you have any better ideas then I’d love to hear them because I’m fresh out.”

 

“We have to get past it. What happened, happened, but we don’t need to dwell on it.”

 

“Can you forget it that easily? I can’t.”

 

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself and his mouth hung open after he realized that he’d said it aloud.  _ Idiot. _

 

“I do what I have to do,” Keith answered simply, “I suggest you do the same, besides, you were the first one to point out that it wasn’t a good idea in our predicament.”

 

He knew that he had no right to be hurt, Keith was right after all, but there was no reasoning with the sharp pain that settled into his chest at the flat tone in which he delivered those words; it was as simple as if he’d been talking about the weather.

 

“Go away and let me cook,” Lance grumbled, pushing past him, “you’re just going to get in my way if you’re in here.”

 

“Fine.”

 

Busying himself with chopping vegetables, he did his best not to think about how right he was. Even before he’d moved in to kiss him, Lance had known it was a bad idea. His hand clenched on the stainless-steel handle of his knife and he blew out an annoyed breath; it was his fault that they were in this situation in the first place and he could only be angry with himself. Knowing that, of course, didn’t make him feel any better. Pushing all of his irritation and hurt to the back of his mind, he focused on the task at hand and set aside the mostly prepared salads before getting started with the rest of the preparation.

 

An hour in the kitchen did wonders for his state of mind, the multiple dishes helping to keep his mind focused on what was in front of him rather than was behind him.

 

“Food’s done,” he announced after he finished plating, squeezing a little lemon juice over the crisp greens of the salad before picking up several dishes and carefully making his way to the living room.

 

Keith once again dog eared his novel and sat it beside him, eyes wide at the sight of the food that Lance brought him and sat on the coffee table in front of him.

 

“Be careful, it’s hot.”

 

“Wow, it looks great.”

 

More than a little pleased, Lance tried to shrug off the urge to smile.

 

“This is guava glazed chicken, black beans and rice, and an oil and vinegar side salad.”

 

Keith lifted his face, sniffing at the air, “it smells incredible.”

 

“Hopefully it tastes just as good,” Lance said, trying not to swell on the praise and forcing himself back into the kitchen to get his own plates, “what do you want to drink?”

 

“Water’s good.”

 

It had been a long time since he’d cooked for someone, or since he’d cooked at all. When he was writing, Lance tended to outright forget to eat at all so, when he did manage to remember to eat, it was normally take out from the closest delivery place he could find. He brought Keith a glass of water and then returned with his own plates in hand.

 

“Enjoy,” he said, turning towards the hallway.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I’m going to take my dinner in my room.”

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Keith chastised, “you can’t plan to run away just because we’re in the same room together.”

 

Lance snorted, “would you like to bet?”

 

“Just sit down and eat, Lance; it’ll get easier if you face it head on.”

 

“Last time I faced something head on I ended up in this situation.”

 

“Well, I didn’t say it was going to be a  _ cake walk _ .”

 

Grumbling under his breath, Lance acquiesced and took a seat on the sofa.

 

“Right. How are your ribs, by the way?”

 

“Still hurt,” Keith shrugged his right shoulder, “but it isn’t as hard to move and I can actually breathe a little deeper. How’s your chest? I notice last-“

 

Keith realized where he was going and cleared his throat, starting again, “well, I noticed that the bruising is pretty much gone.”

 

Mimicking his motions, Lance shrugged a shoulder, “I get these occasional pains but it doesn’t really bother me that much. The bruises should be gone by the time we head back.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The silence was strained as they both cut into their food. Lance hated it, feeling like he was going to have to walk on eggshells just to keep his sanity around Keith.

 

“Hey, this is really good Lance.”

 

Lance blinked, realizing that he’d been somewhere else, and looked over at Keith as he popped another piece of chicken into his mouth.

 

“Oh, thanks.”

 

“Where did you learn to cook like this?”

 

“Hunk’s mom, actually.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah,” he answered simply.

 

Keith, however, was not satisfied with that answer and his expression was softened by an encouraging smile as he gave him his undivided attention.

 

“Tell me about her.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Do I have to have a reason? Maybe I’m just curious.”

 

Lance looked at him for a long minute.

 

“Hunk and I were really close in high school and he knew that my family wasn’t the best-“

 

“-he knew that they were total shit, continue.”

 

“…Right. Anyway, he would always ask me to come over and hang out with him at his house; it was just him and his mom, Sefina.”

 

Lance found himself chuckling a little at the memory of her absolute horror at the way that Helena treated him and how she’d hugged him so closely that he’d thought he would surely suffocate.

 

“His mom worked full time and ran a little bakery business out of their house so she was always making something. Hunk and I would offer to help her so she’d end up showing me how to make things while we were cleaning or helping her roll dough. I remember this one time-“

 

Lance caught himself, embarrassed as he realized that he’d gotten caught up in his memories.

 

“-well, it’s not important.”

 

“No, I want to hear about it,” Keith encouraged as he chewed thoughtfully, “what happened?”

 

“Really, it’s nothing.”

 

“It must be a good memory, you had a cute goofy smile on your face when you mentioned it,” he pointed out as he speared a chunk of lettuce.

 

“…Did not.”

 

“Did too, now tell me.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes but he continued, “well, Sefina was making a wedding cake for a couple who was getting married at this huge plantation estate out in Coral Gables. I mean, it was a gorgeous place and the back was covered in huge draping trees, natural pools, and flowers. The couple wanted the cake to be just as lush as the locale so she taught me how to make these fondant roses and cats whiskers and let me decorate the cake with her. I remember being amazed that she would let a kid help her with something so important. I was always a little jealous of Hunk after that.”

 

“She sounds like she’s really something.”

 

“Closest I ever came to having a mom, I think,” Lance chuckled, “Sefina and Hunk kept me out of trouble. Hunk was always my voice of reason.”

 

“I know what that’s like. The group was that way for me.”

 

As Lance speared a piece of radish, a thought came to him.

 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you how you guys met.”

 

“We’d all been investigating the crime scenes by ourselves after the war broke out and the gate was closed but we kept running into each other. Like, I met Shiro and Matt at one of the sites in Perth and then I met Matt and Pidge at a different site in Aberdeen. No matter where I went, I would see one or two of them. I thought they were human because Pidge had already made several amplifiers but they knew what I was. I thought they were following me and I approached them when we met again in Elgin. We talked and realized that we were all on the same side. They took me to Shiro’s manor and we all sat down and agreed to pool our resources.”

 

“That’s insane! How long ago was that?”

 

Keith raised a brow, “are you going to call me old again?”

 

“Good chance.”

 

“Ugh. It was about ninety years ago.”

 

He couldn’t hide his surprise at that number.

 

“You’re telling me that you’ve been working for  _ ninety years _ to find a way to fix this?”

 

“Shiro has been working  _ much _ longer. When the war broke out I was about your age so it took me a little longer before I had the know-how to approach the situation.”

 

Ninety years looking for answers only to find nothing? He couldn’t imagine how frustrating and terrifying it would be to find yourself in a situation like that, even with the experience he’d recently gained.

 

“Well, at least now I get why you guys were so intense. I guess I’m the first break you’ve had in a while.”

 

“You can say that again. That’s what it’s so important that you’re safe. If something happens to you, we don’t have another ninety years to search. Our power is diminishing faster than before. If this doesn’t work then that’s it.”

 

Though he spoke evenly, Lance heard the worry in the finality of his words.

 

“I’ll do my best.”

 

Keith looked over at him and spared a smile and a hum of approval.

 

“I know you will, Lance.”

 


	15. Just Tonight

Keith had been right when he’d said that facing their awkward situation head on would make it easier, though it certainly hadn’t made it disappear. Over the next several days there were plenty of awkward moments between the two of them; a brush of a shoulder after passing too closely in the hallway, the touch of one another’s hand while standing too close and reaching for the same item in the kitchen, conversations that one of them ended with a lighthearted tease that was quickly too heavy and present between them. Lance had thought that the best solution was getting out of their cramped quarters and finding new ways to occupy themselves since Keith was no longer plagued by pain. By Thursday, he couldn’t take being cooped up inside anymore and drug him out of the house.

A gentle breeze caressed his skin and he hummed a low note of pleasure at the feel of the sun as it beat down on his back.

“Isn’t this nice?”

“It’s _hot as balls_ out here,” Keith grumbled from beneath the shade of the ridiculously vivid turquoise umbrella shading his pale complexion from the rays.

“Oh right,” Lance snickered, turning his head so that he could look over at him from where he lay on his stomach on an oversized lounge chair, “I forgot you were more of an _inside_ cat.”

He realized his mistake the moment he made it and immediately he was shifting and sitting up, “shit, sorry Keith, it was a reflex. I didn’t-“

“It’s fine, Lance,” Keith said without even looking up from the novel he held, “I don’t mind.”

“No, it’s not fine. That was insensitive-“

With a loud ‘thud,’ Keith closed the book and turned an amused look to his right.

“It really is okay, Lance.”

“But you said you hate that sort of comment…”

“I do, from people who just want something to laugh at. I know that you don’t mean any harm by it, besides,” he squinted as he looked at the people walking the beach, lip curling a little, “in this case I am _definitely_ more of an inside cat.”

The playful wink that he aimed his way to punctuate his words set Lance’s heart flipping and that was _far_ too dangerous.

“Well, I’ll still try to keep my mouth shut.”

“Uh huh.”

It had been just after noon when Lance had taken Keith out for lunch at a charming little deli in midtown where they’d killed a half hour. They’d taken a leisurely stroll around some of the closer shops and gaudy tourist locations before Lance had taken them to their next destination. At one they found themselves walking along the beautiful mangrove boardwalk of Crandon Park. It had been a little something for himself, a memory to cherish to overwhelm those of the last time he’d walked along the same promenade. Keith had seemed thankful for the opportunity to stretch his legs and get some exercise so he hadn’t questioned his choice of venue. They had walked for nearly an hour before Lance had suggested that they relax for a while on the beach.

 “You know,” Lance piped up after a few minutes, “I’m surprised to see you reading. Didn’t you tell me that you normally have a hard time sitting still for long?”

“I do, usually, but your stories are different.”

He couldn’t help the grimace, “it feels a little wrong to have someone reading my stories who actually knows about them already.”

Keith shrugged a shoulder and opened his book to the page he’d been on, “I told you already, didn’t I? You make the history come alive and it’s not a chore to read like most books are for me.”

Lance shifted, turning onto his back to let the rays blaze down onto his bared torso, “so, you like it then?”

“I haven’t read anything of yours that I didn’t like.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“Not really, it’s too hard to choose. There was one in your collection of short stories that I really liked, the one about the fae cartographer, Muir, who was exploring a mire in the Faroe islands and discovered several will o’ the wisp who tried to draw him into an endless maze.”

Lance raised a brow.

“That’s easily one of the least known things I’ve ever written. I’m surprised you liked that one.”

“What can I say, I have peculiar taste.”

Lance waited for several minutes before he huffed, “Pidge would have been all over that comment.”

“I know,” Keith snickered.

“Are you ready to get back to Edinburgh?”

“Mm, yes and no.”

“That wasn’t quite what I expected. I thought a ‘hell yes’ was in order right there.”

Lance reached down and pulled his sunglasses from the sand at the side of his chair, sliding them over his eyes to dull the piercing sun.

“Well I’m not going to miss this heat,” Keith chuckled, “but I’ll miss not having to be as vigilant. Plus, Miami isn’t that bad; I can imagine why you like it. Aside from the noisy tourists and this god forsaken heat, it’s a nice city.”

Lance took a deep breath, committing the scent of the sea and sounds of several fragmented conversations from fellow beachgoers to memory. He let his hand fall from his side so that he could lazily drag his digits through the sand, content with the feeling of the granules sifting through his fingers when he took a fistful and tilted his hand, watching as it poured from his grasp.

“It’s home,” he said simply.

“I know, and I know how important that is.”

Once again Lance was reminded of how soon he would be leaving his city. He had less than twenty-four hours until his return to Scotland to resume his search, twenty-four hours before he would likely be faced with the threat of death. _Again._

“Are you okay,” Keith asked, peering over the edge of the novel with that irritatingly perceptive gaze, “are you worried about going back?”

“If I said no would you call me on it?”

“…Probably.”

“I am worried, but not so much for me.”

Keith closed his eyes for a moment, sighing, “you don’t need to worry about me, Lance, I can-“

“If you’re going to say that you can take care of yourself, I really am going to punch you in the fucking ribs, dude. I’m worried that something else might happen to you.”

“You do realize,” Keith rolled his eyes, “that they aren’t after me…”

“And yet _you’re_ the one who nearly died.”

“You almost drowned too, you little shit.”

“The point is that I’m okay with going back but I want you to be more careful,” Lance grumbled, remembering the sound of cracking bones and the fear he’d felt when he’d heard him hit the water, “if nothing else, would you do it for me?”

Keith’s expression gave nothing away.

“What I do, Lance, I do _for you_ in the first place. I won’t make you promises that I can’t keep.”

“Why do you have to make this difficult? Couldn’t you just say, ‘sure Lance, I’ll do my best?’”

“Because I’m not here to coddle you. Get used to the idea that people could die, because it’s not out of the question. You’re the top priority, above everyone including myself; you should know that by now.”

“Knowing it and liking it are two different things.”

“That’s just how it is, Lance.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Closing his eyes, Lance tried to let his thoughts drift away as he basked in the sun but the sounds of their battle were on loop in his mind, the events playing out like a perfectly orchestrated reenactment behind his eyes. He swallowed against his dry throat and his hand instinctively rose to the place where he’d been hit by the energy beam. Fear and worry melded into a black ooze that snaked through his limbs and tainted his blood, turning his body cold despite the heat. _Get used to the idea that people could die._

Those words stuck with him for the rest of the afternoon as time wore on and the date of their return grew ever closer.

 

* * *

 

 

The pair didn’t speak much after they’d gotten back to Lance’s home, both separating to their respective rooms to ride out the rest of the night and reflect on their upcoming morning flight. In the face of their return, both Keith and Lance found themselves unable to sleep. Lance counted the odd particulates on the ceiling for nearly an hour before he gave up. He’d been lying in the guestroom bed, in the same position, for hours tossing and turning without any hope of sleep. His mind was burdened by all the questions remaining after his strange talk with Shiro and the addition of the knowledge that his time with Keith was coming to an end. He found himself frowning at his own disappointment. He had no right to be upset at the thought, hell, he’d been the one to say that there should be any repeats of that kiss.

That kiss…

The memory of their touches, of his own boldness, sent chills across his flesh. Keith had been receptive to his advance, taking control of their kiss and meeting him with a fire that had matched his own. Lance licked his lips, remembering the oddly arousing taste of clove and the sweet, warm, intensity of his flavor. He wondered if Keith thought about it as much as he did, if he ruminated on the memory of his taste and the feel of his lips pressed against his own the same way. He wondered if Keith laid awake in the dead of night and suffered the agonizing heat and discomfort of need, of want, of desire. He wondered if there was a chance that he wanted just as entirely as Lance wanted him.

“You,” Lance grumbled to himself with a huff, forcing a stop to the unhealthy and _certainly_ unproductive series of thoughts, “are an _idiot_.”

Knowing that sleep was no longer to be in the cards, Lance threw off the rumpled covers and slid off the bed. He left his door open and padded down the hall, pausing at the sight of Keith sitting on the far end of the sectional wearing a scowl. The thoughts that had been playing in the back of his mind drowned out his ability to speak for several moments and he was forced to shake them away.

“Hey,” Lance called out to him, “cant sleep either?”

“No,” Keith sighed, “too much on my mind.”

“I know the feeling.”

Lance puttered into the kitchen and grabbed two cokes, going the long way around so that he could hand one off to Keith as he passed by his end of the couch and settled comfortably on the other.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Want to talk about what’s got you so keyed up?”

“I’d imagine it’s the same thing keeping you from sleeping,” Keith shrugged, popping the top on the can and taking a sip, “we haven’t heard a word from Shiro or the group since that phone call and a week is a little long to go without hearing something, anything.”

“Well, we’ll find out soon what’s going on and I’m sure everybody is okay. You said it yourself that if something bad were going on he probably would have put us on the fastest flight out.”

“Yeah,” Keith said, nodding his head as he repeated it to himself quietly as though he needed the reassurance, “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Well, since we’re both up, how about we do something to kill some time? What about a movie marathon? It’ll keep us occupied if we manage to stay awake or it’ll put us to sleep. Sounds like a win-win to me.”

Keith’s shoulders relaxed a little and the corner of his mouth tilted upwards, “yeah, sounds like one to me too; thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, I just don’t want to spend all night sitting here with you scowling a dark cloud in my living room,” Lance answered easily with a playful grin, good-naturedly sitting still for the small throw pillow that Keith chucked at him, “do you have any preferences?”

“No, it’s whatever you like.”

Lance pursed his lips and mentally flipped through the titles that he knew he owned.

“How about Lord of the Rings? They’re longer than the line at the DMV and they work equally well for marathons and putting people to sleep in my experience.”

“Like I said, whatever you like Lance; it works for me.”

With a chuckle, Lance picked up the controller sitting idly on the coffee table and turned on the television to queue up the movies from the external hard drive plugged into the back.

“Alright, then let’s get this show on the road.”

 

* * *

 

 

They were fifteen minutes away from the closing credits of the first of the movies, the Fellowship of the Ring, when Lance noticed the continuous dipping and then subsequent jerk of Keith’s head as he fought sleep. Biting his lip against a smile, he watched as his companion nodded off and managed to wake back up several times. By the time that the second movie began to auto-play, Keith was having less luck keeping himself awake. It was just around ten minutes in when gravity got the better of his teetering, half conscious, form and he ended up falling to the right, straight down against Lance’s shoulder.

“Shit, sorry,” Keith murmured sleepily, trying to push himself back up before he was halted by Lance’s hand on the side of his throat, “Lance…”

He didn’t know why he reached out to him or why he couldn’t let him go but he was thankful that Keith was too tired to do much arguing.

“Stop fighting it,” Lance commanded quietly, guiding his head down onto his lap and letting his hand rise up through Keith’s thick hair to massage his scalp, “rest.”

Unable to stop himself, Lance looked down at Keith who was watching him through heavy lids and let his fingers slide over the soft, silky, fur of his ear. His digits ran the length before sliding back down to scratch at the base. A curious warmth spread through his chest as the sound of a soft purr rumbled from within Keith and, before Keith could say a word, Lance shook his head.

“It’s just me, Keith,” he murmured in response to the surprise in his gaze and the opening of his mouth, “it’s just me and it’s just tonight. Don’t say anything, just sleep.”

Lance raised his eyes back to the movie though he wasn’t paying it any attention, rather he was focused on the tensing of Keith’s body as he continued his ministrations at the base of his ear. After a few minutes, however, he relaxed and the purr softened. Eventually, as he continued to stroke his hair and rub his ear, Keith fell asleep. Lance waited for another few minutes after hearing his soft snores before he retracted his hand and reached out for the throw draped over the back of the couch, pulling it down over Keith’s form. The sounds of the television faded away as he looked down at Keith, smoothing a hand down over his hair after pulling the blanket a little further up his body. His impossibly long lashes cast dancing shadows over his cheeks at the movie continued to play and his breaths were light through parted lips.

Lance managed to keep his state of consciousness until near the end of the second movie. By the time that the credits began rolling, he too had begun nodding off. With a conundrum on his hands, he looked down at the man sleeping soundly with his head on his lap and debated the merits of getting up and going to bed or staying where he was. He knew that he should wake Keith and let him go to his bedroom to get another few hours before they had to be up for their flight but he didn’t want to disturb him. Of course, if he were honest, his reticence was tied more to how fond he was of the closeness.

Ever since the incident with his nightmare leading to a shared kiss, both men had been overly aware of their proximity at all times and it made cohabitation difficult and tense. They’d been careful of their word choices, of their sleep schedules, even of being in the same area of the house at the same time. The effortless closeness that they’d begun to share had been severed almost completely by that one, singular, happening and Lance would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss it. Ever since the pair had wound up stuck together, there had been a small spark of something nestled between them and it was impossible to ignore. Even during their stay at Shiro’s manor back in Edinburgh, each of their sparring matches had been charged and both of them had gone out of their way to see to the other’s comfort and wellbeing, as small as it might have seemed at the time.

Lance took the remote from the arm of the sectional and pressed the power button, submerging the room in total darkness aside from the dim stove light in the kitchen that he left on for night time navigation. He allowed himself to run his hand through Keith’s hair once more, reveling in the feel of the strands sliding past his fingers and smiling softly at the contented sigh that the sleeping Cat Sith loosed at his touch. No, he couldn’t wake him. Shifting his body little by little, Lance nestled against the sectional and allowed his eyes to close. They were returning to Scotland in a few hours, likely to face off against a new horde of creatures and threats, so he allowed himself a moment of indulgence to remember, a moment to carry in the depths of his mind like a locket filled with a memory that, though small, would get him through the times ahead.

He didn’t, couldn’t, know yet just how much those seemingly small moments would get him through.

 


	16. Answers

Despite the constant flow of people passing by their seats, noisily trying to shove too-big carry-on bags into the overhead compartments and skirt past other passengers, all that Keith could focus on was the thick wall of silence that had been up between Lance and himself since the two had woken up. It had taken Keith several moments upon waking to realize his position and that he was using his charge as a pillow. The events of the hours before, though foggy in his waking mind, had come back to him and he remembered Lance’s hand firmly pulling him down onto his lap before sliding into his hair. His cheeks heated as he remembered the words he’d spoken even as he scratched his ears, coaxing a purr from the depths of his throat, ‘ _it’s just me, Keith. It’s just me and it’s just tonight_.’

As soon as he’d realized that he was laying on him, he’d nearly jumped up from the couch to distance himself; Lance never failed to surprise him.  He had woken up when Keith had moved from his place and the two had actively avoided speaking to one another since. It did manage to irritate him, however, that Lance seemed perfectly calm. Even as he looked to his left where his companion was seated, he didn’t look any worse for wear after the frazzling experience of the morning. They had grabbed their pre-packed bags at seven and made for the airport shortly after, not a single word exchanged other than a singular confirmation of readiness.

During the ride to the airport, the boarding, and the waiting, all he’d been able to think about was that gesture.

“Why did you do that?”

It was instant, out of his mouth before he could even hope to stop it. Keith turned his head to pin Lance with a questioning glance, “last night. Why?”

Lance looked away from the window where he’d been staring blankly at the tarmac and shone a nonchalant smile his way.

“Because I know it feels good and you were seriously stressed out,” he answered, though Keith spied a little color at the tips of his ears, “also, I really like to touch your ears. I know that you aren’t comfortable with your body but I thought…. I don’t know.”

He shrugged self-consciously.

“Tell me.”

“I thought that, maybe, if I showed you how much I like it, that you would be a little more comfortable in your own skin. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable and, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t do it again. I thought my opinion might have a little bit of weight so I wanted to take full advantage of it.”

Keith found himself at a loss for words and his left hand immediately rose to touch his ear, though his disguise concealed them.

“I meant it when I said that it suits you,” Lance went on to say as his fingers began tapping a steady beat on the arm of the seat, “I like who you are and I like how you look.  Although, it can be hard to not crack a cat joke or two.”

Keith felt a wave of pleasure course through him at those words, at the thought of Lance trying to get him to see his body the way that he saw it. He’d spent a long, long, time hating his appearance and cursing the powers that be for who he was but… The honesty in that smile and the appreciation in those eyes made it hard not to wonder if it wasn’t all bad. If Lance thought so highly of him, if he cared for who he was, even through what he looked like, then how could he truly hate it?

“I probably wouldn’t mind if it was you… I mean, I know that you don’t think I’m a joke so I won’t kill you over one or two. Like I told you at the beach, I just have a problem with people who think I’m a novelty using me as the butt of their jokes.”

The gentle, nervous, smile that Lance had worn took on a new form after he heard Keith speak and he wondered briefly if he was going to live to regret those words. Lance smile became devious and there was nothing but mischief in those baby blues as he leaned and turned his face towards Keith’s ear, his words intimate and meant only for him.

“So, if I said that I’d like to make kitty purr again, you wouldn’t kill me?”

Keith hissed out a breath at the lowered tone and the emphasis, the feel of Lance’s breath fanning over his throat as he spoke nearly against his ear. The warmth that had saturated him flared, bubbling in the pit of his abdomen like lava as it trailed to his groin. The way that he could affect him now… It bordered on absolute insanity.

“That’s not fair,” he grumbled, glaring at the seat in front of him as his hands tightened on the edges of the arm rests, “and you know it.”

“I know,” Lance chuckled quietly before he pulled away, donning an innocent smile as he leaned back into his seat.

Keith leaned his head back against the rest and closed his eyes, praying that he was tired enough to sleep through the majority of the flight and save himself from Lance McClain.

“I might just kill you after all.”

 

* * *

 

 

When the plane touched down at Edinburgh both men were awake and on edge. Just the sight of the city sprawling out beneath them as they descended to the tarmac was enough to set Lance’s fine hairs on end. It was an odd, almost surreal, feeling to be back after the events that had unfolded several weeks prior and, though he’d been trying to psych himself up for their return, there was still a little wobble in his legs as he stepped into the airport with Keith at his side. Keith, however, seemed more at ease than he had been in days. The sight of the city as the plane had been nearing touchdown had lit his eyes and it was no secret that it was just as Miami was to Lance; Edinburgh was his home and he was glad to see it.

“It’s going to be fine,” Keith murmured quietly, his hand at the small of Lance’s back both to show his support and keep him moving forward as the crowd thickened around them.

“I know,” Lance forced himself to say, “I know.”

It wasn’t hard to pick Shiro out of the crowd as they made their way through the terminal, the fluffy white forelock sticking out amongst the other travelers and waiting family members near him. The moment that he caught sight of them, he was making long, hurried, strides to greet them.

“Gods, it’s good to see the two of you,” he said gruffly just before he pulled both Keith and Lance into a tight bearhug, his fingers digging into their shoulders, “we were worried about you.”

Lance didn’t know how to react and he instinctively stiffened, though his body relaxed after a moment. It was an odd feeling to be missed when, for so long, the only person who’d ever really given a damn about him was Hunk. Even though he knew what he was to them, a key to their future, he wanted to believe that they did care for him beyond who he was, even if only a little. When he pulled away, he cleared his throat.

“Let’s not wait around here,” he said with a suspicious glance around the terminal, “we need to get back to the manor as quickly as possible.”

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance spoke up as they began cutting through the groups of travelers, “what’s been the hurry, I mean, aside from the usual hurry? Did something happen while we were gone?”

“Yeah, you’ve had us worried,” Keith added as they followed behind Shiro who led the way to where he was parked.

Shiro spared a quick glance over his shoulder, “I can’t tell you anything about that until we get back. Suffice to say that things have been brought to light in your absence.”

Lance and Keith both looked at one another, brows knit as they wondered in tandem just what kind of things it was that he meant. They followed the rest of the way in silence before piling into Shiro’s SUV.

“How’s Pidge,” Keith asked as they peeled out of the airport parking lot, “and Matt and Coran?”

“They’re fine,” Shiro assured him with a kind smile, “they’ve been much better after learning that you two were safe. Pidge’s arm is healed and Matt and Coran’s injuries are as well so everyone is doing well.”

“How’s Hunk been,” Lance asked, leaning forward from his place in the backseat and resting his arm on the back of Keith’s seat, “I haven’t heard anything from him in a while.”

Lance noticed the tick of Shiro’s jaw and the odd silence that followed for several seconds. There was something there; something was going on.

“Hunk is fine.”

Keith cut in before Lance could.

“Shiro?”

Shiro’s pewter eyes darted to the side, meeting with Keith’s and then Lance’s before he fixed them back onto the road.

“I mean it when I say that Hunk is fine but,” his eyes shifted back to Lance for a split second, “Lance, you’re going to need to prepare yourself before we get there.”

A leaden ball of dread dropped down into his stomach almost instantaneously.

“What are you talking about, Shiro,” Keith asked, narrowing his eyes at their driver.

“I’ve said all that I can for now.”

“What do you mean by prepare myself,” Lance asked quietly, his throat dry as he wet his lips and tried to keep his tone level.

“Understand that things are about to change and that you need to be ready and willing to hear things that you’re not going to like.”

“Did you tell Hunk about what’s going on?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, did someone _else_?”

“Lance,” Keith warned, shaking his head at the rising tone of his voice, “I don’t think that’s what he means.”

“It isn’t,” Shiro agreed, “you’ll understand when we arrive. Just… Try to collect yourselves.”

Lance fell back against his seat, his arms rising to cross protectively over his chest. Anxiety bit and clawed at him as they drew closer in silence, Shiro’s words playing in his head and speeding his heartbeat as Lance tried to conceive the meaning behind them. Was there a reason that he hadn’t heard from Hunk? He’d said he was fine though, hadn’t he? Keith glanced back at him several times during the drive wearing a concerned frown and Lance did his best to smile but it was no good; neither of them believed it.

When they pulled into manor’s drive, Lance’s heartbeat was thundering in his ears. The nerves that had been building during the ride suddenly multiplied tenfold and he found himself reluctant to peel himself out of the backseat for fear of what waited inside.

“You ready?”

He nodded when Keith patted a comforting hand on his shoulder as he slid out of the vehicle, hefting his bag over his shoulder, “as ready as I’ll ever be.”

The pair followed Shiro inside and, at his instruction, dropped their bags just inside the foyer before they were lead to the conference room. The moment that the door was opened, Lance’s heart gave a few unsteady pumps. The group was seated around the table but his gaze was drawn to the very end where a large, well dressed, stranger was seated just to the side of _Hunk_. Before he could even open his mouth to say a word, Hunk beat him to it with a trademark kind smile.

“Hey guys,” he greeted with a wave of his hand, “how was Miami?”

Lance was frozen in place several steps beyond the doorway, able only to blink in surprise as his brain whirled through the possible reasons for his knowledge of their whereabouts when he’d been extremely careful not to divulge too much information when they had been chatting. He looked around the table and noticed the discomfort of those in attendance, their downcast eyes and stiffened shoulders standing out as they remained silent.

“Hunk, what are you doing in here? And w-what are you talking about,” he tried to play it off, though the stutter in his voice would have given him away if it hadn’t been so obvious that he was lying, “I told you where we were-“

“-stop, Lance,” Hunk shook his head, smile never faltering, “I know exactly where you’ve been and I knew when you got there.”

“What are you-“

“I believe it is time that we begin this meeting,” the stranger at Hunk’s side interrupted, garnering Lance’s full attention for the first time since entering, “wouldn’t you agree, Shiro?”

“Yes,” Shiro said as he made his way towards the empty seat at the head of the conference table, “Keith, Lance, take a seat.”

“Why is Hunk here, Shiro,” Lance questioned, refusing to budge even after Keith tried to nudge him forward, “what the hell is going on?”

It was wrong, the entire room, the aura _, it all felt wrong_.

“We’ll explain it to you when you take a seat.”

Keith gave him another nudge and Lance took a few begrudging steps forward before he took a seat next to Allura and Keith took the empty chair to his right. As he scooted forward, Allura covered his left hand with her right and leaned in to whisper into his ear, “try to stay calm and listen to everything,” before giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it.

“There, now we may begin,” the stranger began, nodding, “I believe Hunk has some explaining to do before I speak.”

“Right,” Hunk coughed, the smile he’d worn fading away to be replaced by a solemn expression, “you may have noticed that I’ve never really been too worried over anything that’s gone on around here, any of the weird stuff or meetings you guys have and I need to apologize.”

Hunk’s gaze immediately rose to Lance’s.

“I’m sorry, Lance,” he said quietly, hands clenching and unclenching on the top of the table, “but being here, finding them, it was never an accident. The note in your mailbox, me letting you go out alone, coming along quietly to this place to wait for you? Didn’t you think that it was weird that everything worked out the way it did?”

Lance opened his mouth and promptly closed it again, unable to form any words as Hunk continued.

“See, when we met in middle school, mom was sick. She was working two jobs to support us but her health was failing and there wasn’t anything that I could do to help her. I didn’t even really know you at the time, we only had like one class together I think-“

“The trip down memory lane is nice and all but how about you get to the point,” Lance ground out between clenched teeth, his discomfort manifesting into irritability.

“Right. Well, just before we started high school, I was approached by someone who wanted to make a deal with me. I didn’t know who he was, had never seen him before, but he knew all about me and mom and what was going on at home. He knew she was sick and he offered me an obscene amount of money on one condition-“

Hunk gulped and took a deep breath before he continued, “-he wanted me to keep an eye on a kid named Lance McClain. At first, I refused, it was sketchy and who in their right mind would offer up a kid on a silver platter for some weirdo who walks out of an alley and corners them off the boulevard? But… Mom was really bad off then and I was worried about her. The guy told me that if he’d wanted to hurt you, he could easily do it without my help. He said he just wanted to make sure that you were safe, that there were bad people who might want to hurt you.”

Lance could scarcely breath as he listened to Hunk’s story.

“So, I agreed. I didn’t like it,” Hunk murmured, looking down at his hands, “but it was for her and he said that you would be safe and I would have done anything for her. He gave me a phone and told me to call him every week and let him know how you were doing. My part of the arrangement was mostly to go with you wherever you went outside of home or school, to be with you as often as possible and pass along anything that he might need to know.”

“That’s why you were always asking me to come over to your house when we were kids? So you could keep an eye on me,” Lance asked, his voice cracking, “so that you could spy on me and report back to some fucking shadow mystery figure?”

“I did what I had to do to keep my family healthy,” Hunk said, raising his eyes to show a stony acceptance of his actions, “and I don’t regret that. We were still friends, Lance, and I still cared about you-“

“All my memories aren’t even real,” he whispered to himself, feeling small as those easily spoken words wrapped around him like a cocoon, cradling him in layers of lies that he’d believed as a kid.

He’d though himself so thoroughly broken as a child, alone in a home where he was unloved and unwanted, but he’d pieced himself back together after finding his passion and finding Hunk. Those two things had been the only parts of his life that had made it worth living, the only two things that kept his head above water. His lips curled into a self-deprecating sneer even as the pain crept into his heart with an icy burn and his fingers trembled. Those two things were now proven to have been facades.

 “That’s not true, Lance, I’ve always been here for you-“

“Because that was your fucking _job_ , wasn’t it?! You weren’t here for me, you were here for _him_!”

There was pain in Hunk’s features as he shook his head but Lance couldn’t stomach it and turned his gaze away, looking down at the table as he clenched his teeth.

“Please, continue,” the stranger instructed Hunk when he’d stopped speaking and, reluctantly, the young man began again.

“Anyway, I got a phone call and was told to watch your house after what happened with your parents. When your dad came by with some old looking stuff, I reported it back and I was told to pass along a postcard to you. I had taken time off from work since I’d known that you would want to come here, to Edinburgh, and I was ordered to come with you. He told me that if you went out alone I wasn’t to go with you since it was dangerous but, for some reason, he said that you would be fine. So that’s why I didn’t ask questions when Keith came to get me or when you were suddenly sure about staying at some stranger’s place after you berated him at his own workplace. I’ve already explained the story to everyone here but, apparently, for you to understand what he has to tell you, you needed to hear my side first.”

Betrayal cut through his chest like many sharpened blades, twisted and wriggling as they made their marks beneath his flesh. All of the memories he’d had, the love he’d felt when Hunk had been there with him through his roughest moments, the way his mother had practically adopted him into her home, they were all false. He thought of what he’d told Keith, the warmth of the nostalgia and the smile he’d worn as he’s spoken so highly of his best friend and his many kindnesses. It hurt, it hurt so deeply and so terribly that he thought he might break right there at that very table. The anger he felt was nothing compared to the well of hurt, the depth of sorrow, that echoed within him.

Lance was brought out of his mind by the feel of a hand on his back and he looked over to his right at Keith, who said nothing as he rubbed a comforting circle over his shirt. Allura placed her hand on his once more though she didn’t look his way. They were two silent shows of support to keep him steady as he threatened to buckle.

“Now that you’re all up to speed,” the stranger began, catching everyone’s attention, “I believe it is my turn to speak.

He wore his perfectly coiffed hair and short beard with an elegance befitting a man of distinction, the deep black of it peppered with well-groomed grey at his temples and chin. Even his clothes matched his air, the black blazer buttoned over his grey vest boasting a deep purple pocket square to match the silk tie at his throat. It was his eyes, however, that were the most striking. Beyond the initial ring of grey within his iris’ was a deep yellow that seemed out of place.

“Hunk spoke the truth when he told you of the deal that he struck with the man those years ago; I offered to keep him and his mother looked after in exchange for constant information on your whereabouts and safety, halfling.”

The man’s odd eyes locked straight onto his gaze and Lance was unable to look away.

“My name is Thace; I am the last remaining decrypter for the Keepers.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little warning, my darlings, that I'm going to probably slow down a little in August since I'm switching from summer to fall semester of college and I'm going from 6 credits to 15 so I expect to have a little less time to write. I'll do my best to keep the schedule but please don't hold it against me if I can only update once or twice until I find my rhythm and can balance school and writing. By the middle of September, I should have my stride back. Thank you for understanding and that being said, I'm still going to do my best to keep bringing you weekly updates! If I think that I wont make it, I'll make a note on the schedule so please keep an eye on it if you follow this story weekly! (Links are in my profile, so check it out)
> 
> Thank you for your constant support and kind words, they mean the world! I hope you all have a wonderful day and best of luck to all of you who are going to be diving back into school in the fall! I'll keep my fingers crossed for good things for you!
> 
> Much love,
> 
> ### ☽ MP ☾


	17. Lance's Decision

“Do you think _he_ should be here for this,” Lance spat, looking from Thace to Hunk and back again, “he doesn’t know anything about us, does he? It’s dangerous for him to know any more than whatever he already does.”

Thace quirked a brow, “and what would you have me do, have him sent back to Miami?”

There was no hesitation when he answered, “yes.”

“Lance, stop, I’m not going anywhere,” Hunk broke in, “I’m-”

“You will _not_ speak to me,” Lance said as he made a point not to look in his direction again, proud of his even tone when he felt so unstable, “I don’t want you here and I don’t want to see you; I just want you to leave.”

“Lance-”

“Get him out of here or I walk,” Lance demanded quickly, “and I mean it.”

When no one made any effort to move, he raised his voice, “ ** _now_**!”

“You can’t let your emotions get the better of you, Lance,” Shiro said gently, “don’t say anything that you’ll regret.”

“My only regret,” he hissed, the anger and sorrow melding into a volatile mix threatening to overwhelm him, “was thinking I had any friends without motives. I mean it, Shiro; get him out of here or I’ll leave.”

There was no shortage of unease in the conference room as all those in attendance shifted uncomfortably, most unable to even look in Lance’s direction.  A handful of seconds passed before Thace gave a curt nod and Shiro sighed, “Matt, would you escort Hunk back to his room?”

“Sure, Shiro.”

“Lance,” Hunk whispered, staying seated until Matt was standing behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder, “Lance…”

“C’mon, Hunk.”

The plea only caused the wounds the tear wider and Lance clenched his teeth against the sting as he looked at the table; it was the only way to keep himself from looking up to catch the look in Hunk’s eyes as Matt lead him out of the conference room.

“You should know,” Thace said after the door behind them was closed and the footsteps had receded, “Hunk was never okay with what I asked him to do; he has always felt guilty for his part in this.”

“I don’t want your excuses on his behalf,” Lance stated flatly, the chasm of emotions beginning to fill with a welcome, soothing, numbness.

The room fell into silence once more as they waited for Matt’s return and once he made his way back into the conference room and took his seat, Thace began again.

“Very well, let us continue,” he said, looking to Lance, “Lance, were you able to take from the library?”

The sudden question caught him off guard and he knit his brows as he tried to think.

“Library?”

“The site you visited in West Lothian the day you were attacked is one of the keepers’ libraries, also called a vault. These vaults house information and fragments of lore passed to the keepers from the Elder Fae and is where the halflings gain their knowledge.”

“You said you could see things and hear voices,” Keith said from his side, “I remember you asking if we could see a light.”

There was a hint of a twitch at the corner of Thace’s mouth, “a light, you say?”

“Yeah,” Lance nodded, remembering when Matt had unearthed the obelisks, “when Matt pulled up the ground there were these pillars and they had a ball of light at the tip. When I walked closer, the space between them formed this, like, clear walkway. I can’t really explain it but I couldn’t stop moving towards it, it was like I was being drawn to it. There was also this really annoying buzzing static sound, like my head was tuned into an off-the-air tv channel. When I stood in the middle of them, the pillars started to glow and my side started to itch. That buzzing noise in my head started to change… It was like it had been hundreds of voices talking over each other and the longer I stood there, the more I could pick out. There were these symbols that I could see in my head but they flashed by so quickly…”

“So, then, you _were_ able to take of the knowledge,” Thace said with a small smile, “that is excellent news.”

“But,” Lance shook his head, “I can’t remember any of it and that’s saying something as someone with my memory. I’ve tried to write the symbols and pronounce the words that I heard but nothing comes back to me. The entire time that I stood there the only thing I remember was hearing the word ‘run’ right before those monsters came for us… Oh, wait! I was able to harness it once, I think.”

Thace tilted his head, “harness it how?”

“When I went after Keith and found him, he was dying. I remember being terrified that we were both going to die but…”

Lance could practically feel the way the water had swirled around him and the energy spreading to his fingertips.

“But,” Thace pressed.

“But I felt this energy and a pain in the back of my head. I saw images just like the ones from the site, excuse me, library, and then I started chanting something. I can’t tell you what it was because I don’t even know, all I know is that my body took over like it knew what to do. Somehow, I wasn’t drowning anymore; it was like I was in a stage beyond breathing. I took the water from Keith’s lungs and then the water started to move around us. I passed out and when I woke up, we were lying on the beach.”

Thace listened intently to his words, nodding along with his story as though he understood exactly what he meant.

“It might have felt similarly, but what you did had little to do with what you experienced when you entered the library.”

He sounded so sure.

“But how can you know that?”

“I told you that I am a decrypter, yes? My purpose is to teach halflings like yourself how to interpret and store the information from the libraries. You have all of the information from that library in your mind but you’re unable to use it because you don’t know how yet.”

“But if he didn’t use what he gained from the site, how did he do what he did,” Keith asked before Lance could.

“Simple; he was in danger and, in an act of self-preservation, his body utilized the fae abilities given to him by his fae half.”

“You mean he went fae,” Pidge asked near the head of the table, brows raised as she tried, obviously, not to smile, “like he was ‘going ghost?’”

Lance couldn’t help his sputter of laughter at the thought of pulling a ‘Danny Phantom’ and, when Pidge turned her attention towards him, she was sure to shoot him a wink. It was just a small thing but it lifted his spirits and for that he was thankful.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Thace answered, “but it would seem that Lance was able to tap into those abilities to keep the pair alive; it’s not an uncommon phenomenon.”

For the first time since he’d found out about the peculiarity of his blood, Lance found himself immensely thankful for the fae in him. Without those abilities, both he and Keith would have drowned.

“I hate to interrupt, but can we be done with the subterfuge? It’s unnecessary to keep our amplifiers on with Hunk out of the way,” Keith spoke up, his hand leaving Lance’s back as he leaned forward to cross his arms on the tabletop, eyeing Thace openly, “besides, if we’re supposed to be baring all of our information to a stranger, I’d like to know just as much about him as he does about us. Why is it that we can’t see past your disguise? As far as I know, we’re the only ones with amplifier devices.”

“Actually,” Matt said, chagrinned, “Shiro insisted that we make one for Thace not long after he arrived.”

“With what we were told, I thought it was best to make sure he stays unrecognized,” Shiro added, “Is there a problem with that?”

“Not as long as I can see what’s underneath it,” Keith answered, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t think he’s a bad guy,” Lance murmured lowly, “is something wrong, Keith?”

“There’s something about him,” Keith answered, though he didn’t do him the courtesy of keeping his voice low, “something that’s not sitting right with me.”

“Keith, that’s enough,” Shiro began, stopping when Thace shook his head.

“No, that’s perfectly fine. The only way for us to progress is with trust so yes, let us do away with these cloaks.”

Shiro was the first to discard his disguise and the rest of the group followed suit, one by one returning to their natural appearances. Keith, however, didn’t make a move to shed his own. Lance watched as Thace smirked in amusement and pulled up the left sleeve of his blazer to reveal a thin black band with a mauve stone in the center. There was an audible gasp from both Keith and Lance at the change that occurred when he twisted the stone in the setting.

The coiffed dark hair lengthened and thickened while his skin took on an almost purplish pallor. His eyes then shifted, the yellow surrounding his pupil leaking past the confines of his iris’ to color all of both eyes with the exception of two thin, slit, black, pupils. Though similar to Keith’s, Thace’s ears were higher and further back, closer to the crown of his head, and his tail was battered, the fur growth stunted in several places where it was covered by thick, puckered, scars. Unlike Keith’s natural form, Thace’s appeared more… primal.

“A Cat Sith,” Keith mumbled, his eyes widening as he looked over Thace as he was, “you’re a Cat Sith.”

“As are you,” Thace replied, “are we done stating the obvious now? I’d like to move on.”

“Wait, how do you know what he is if he’s still disguised,” Lance asked, his attention bouncing from Keith to Thace and back again, his anger and distress momentarily forgotten in the midst of the surprise.

“It’s a matter of scent. I’ve met others and I’ve come to learn that we recognize the scent of our kin,” Thace shrugged, looking over at Keith, “which is likely why you took an instant dislike to me; you didn’t understand what you were picking up on me.”

Lance noticed the rigidity of Keith’s posture and he mimicked his gesture from earlier, his hand moving to Keith’s back. Though he felt his skin jump beneath his touch, Keith didn’t pull away.

“Can I ask you something before you move on,” Lance asked, a question popping into his mind.

“What is it?”

“This might be ignorant of me but I don’t know much about physical appearances of fae; why is it that you two are so diff-“

“He’s Unseelie,” Keith answered with an unmistakable layer of distaste in his tone before Lance could even get the rest of the question out of his mouth, “look at his skin.”

Lance remembered Shiro telling him about the atrocities that the Unseelie had committed and how it had been their side that had overthrown the balance.

“Unseelie helped the keepers,” he asked, trying to conceal his suspicion, “I didn’t know that.”

“Generally speaking, no; Unseelie took a stance of non-engagement when it came to anything human. I volunteered to help the halflings because I believe in peace and the advancement of our races.”

Thace’s eyes narrowed a hair and the slight tilt of his lips seemed almost bitter, “I imagine that you’ll agree that we are our own people despite what we are born as.”

The muscles beneath Keith’s skin were bunched and tight, his hands curled into fists on the table top.

“You okay,” Lance murmured quietly, his words only loud enough for Keith’s ears.

It was a moment before Keith could respond, but he nodded his head just before he reached for his ring and switched off his amplifier. Lance could help himself and he watched Keith’s image return to normal and then switched his attention back to Thace, noting the differences in their appearances. The tint of his skin and the almost luminescent yellow of his eyes gave Thace away as Unseelie next to Keith.

“So, couple questions,” Pidge piped up, leaning forward on the table top with closely crossed arms and a distrustful glare, “was it really necessary to deliver creepy notes and then skulk around? Why are you here _now_? Why haven’t you ever approached us before when it’s clear that you knew exactly who we were and what we were doing? It makes trusting you hard.”

“Before you’d given me this device, my appearance was known throughout the fae circles here in Edinburgh. Zarkon and his witch have been hunting me for some time, as well as another renegade group that works for similar means. It wasn’t safe for me to expose myself when my being is paramount to helping reopen the Traveler’s Pass. I’ve kept an eye on you from as closely as I dared, which is how I knew Lance was in Miami.”

“You were there that morning when we were attacked,” Keith asked, his ears flattening and his tail twitching dangerously, “you watched them attack Lance and you didn’t bother to step in and offer your help? And you claim to be here for him?”

“If I had shown myself, the witch’s beasts would have known that I was here. My whereabouts had to be kept hidden if I was to be able to help you. If I had feared for Lance’s life, I would have intervened, however, once I saw him fall into the water, I was positive that he would be safe.”

“You’ve said that his fae blood helped him when he was in danger and now you say that you knew he would be safe after falling into the water,” Allura spoke up, “how could you possibly known that for certain? He might have drowned alongside Keith.”

“No, I don’t think drowning is ever going to be a problem for our halfling. You see, I helped conceal his mother and father so I’m familiar with the specific mixture of fae within Lance.”

Lance felt like the ground dropped out from beneath him and he was immensely thankful for the chair he was seated in. He let his hand fall away from Keith’s back and he gave Thace his undivided attention.

“You knew my parents?”

George’s words popped into his mind as the words left his mouth.

_“His eyes, Lance, they were yellow-”_

_“Yellow eyes? I don’t suppose his skin had a purple tint?”_

“Wait,” Lance spoke again before Thace could answer, “was it you? Were you the one who gave me to George when I was a baby and told him about my parents?”

The man nodded, “yes, I did. I had been guarding your parents, trying to keep them out of the hands of those who wanted the three of you dead.”

Thace blinked a few times and his eyes dropped to the table, an air of melancholy dropping over his form like an intangible cloak as he continued, “I was unable to save them, in the end, but I managed to get you into safer hands. I couldn’t be sure that you would be completely safe or if that man would keep you so I followed you to your new life in Miami. I divvied up my time between watching you and returning here to keep an eye on the situation. Eventually I felt safe leaving you unguarded but I still needed eyes on you, which was why I contacted Hunk. When I noticed how quickly fae power was draining, I realized that I couldn’t let you stay in Miami any longer.”

“I thought you would have been one of the first people to have wanted me back here as soon as possible,” Lance tilted his head, “why did you wait so long?”

When Thace looked back to him, there was a small, sad, smile on his face.

“Your parents worried for you for a long time before you were born. Your mother, Mara, as much as she loved you, she cried almost every night before she gave birth to you; she hated herself for cursing you with her proclaimed selfishness and making you a target. I wanted to wait as long as I could before pulling you back into this world; she would have wanted you to have as much of a regular, human, life as possible. It was the least that I could do for her, for both of them, after my failure.”

“What is your goal here, Thace,” Matt asked when he finished, cutting Lance off before he could ask about his parents.

Schooling his features, Thace nodded as though he remembered where he was, “I am here to see that Lance accomplishes his mission, your mission. I am here to help you open the way back. You’ll need me to help decrypt the information that he gains from the libraries if you want to have any open of opening the pass.”

“Libraries,” Shiro repeated, grim expression on his face as he likely thought back to their last experience with one of them, “as in how many, exactly?”

“Seven.”

A chorus of sighs went up around the table.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Pidge grumbled into her hands, “just want I wanted to hear.”

“No one said it would be easy,” Coran said, twirling the tip of his mustache absently, “but I too worry about having to repeat our last experience.”

“We know what we’re in for, at least,” Matt shrugged, “and like Coran said, nobody ever said that it would be easy.”

“Since you seem to know more than we do, what do you suggest as a next move, Thace,” Shiro asked leaning back against the back of his chair, “what would you have us do?”

“For the next few days I’d like to work with Lance and help him learn to use the information he gains. In that time, I’ll also get a list of the six different vault locations together and we can create a plan of action for how to approach them.”

“How do we know that we can actually trust you,” Keith said, breaking his silence, “how do we know that you aren’t just leading us into a trap?”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way from now on,” Thace lifted his chin, “this is the end of this farce. If there’s a battle to be fought, I’ll be in the trenches alongside you. There is no more time to waste. I have nothing to gain by lying to you and everything to lose. I’ve spent many years keeping this young man safe; if I truly wanted to harm you, or him, I could have easily done it by now.”

Lance could practically feel the waves of discomfort rolling off of Keith, the sound of his thrashing tail loud as it hit against the bars at the back of his chair, and he didn’t blame him for a moment, however, as he looked back at Thace all he could think of was the opportunity to learn. Through him, he might finally get to know more about his parents and that possibility far outweighed his own trepidation. Shiro looked down the table, pinning Lance with a look.

“Lance, you’re as much a part of this as anyone, what do you think?”

He could feel the differences around the table, Pidge and Keith with their distrust, Allura and Coran with their own less hostile reservations, Shiro and Matt with their open approval. Lance thought about his position, about what he meant to these people and what would happen if he didn’t agree to go through with it. In his mind, there was no doubt that Thace was the only option to help him learn how to save them. He looked to his right just in time to see Keith turn his gaze to him and, though he knew he was unhappy with the situation, Keith forced a smile.

“Do whatever _you_ want to do, Lance,” he said quietly and Lance nodded, “this doesn’t just involve us.”

Lance looked every member of the conference in the eye, each nodding when he made contact, until he was looking back at Shiro once more. Sure in his decision, Lance took a breath.

“We don’t have any other leads and this is the closest we’ve come to any kind of understanding. I’m in.”

 

 

 


	18. I'm in

_“I’m in.”_

After Lance had made up his mind and spoken those words, the meeting drew to a close.

“There it is,” Shiro said, pushing up from his chair and looking around the table, “we’re in this together. I want everyone to rest and conserve your strength for whatever comes next. I have a feeling it’s only going to get more difficult from here.”

Though there was steel in his behind his words, there were obvious circles under Shiro’s eyes. As he looked at each member where they sat, Lance saw that same tired determination mirrored in each of their faces. The strain of worry was eating away at them, every day leaving their bodies weaker while the threats only grew. Lance’s shoulders straightened and he lifted his chin.

“We can do this,” Lance nodded, now more than ever seeing how important it was that he was committed to the cause, “I’ll do my best.”

Shiro smiled, softening the edges of his weary gaze, “we know, Lance, we have faith in you.”

“Complete faith,” Allura echoed, patting his hand.

“Well, let’s give the boys some room, aye,” Coran piped in as he stood, stretching, “bit of a load for one day. I haven’t had a shock like that since Alfor set a yutsnickel loose in the palace commons when we were boys.”

Lance raised a brow and bit down on a grin when Matt mouthed, ‘don’t ask, trust me.’

“We’re agreed,” Thace added, looking to Lance, “some room might be necessary. Meet me here in the morning and we’ll begin; I can afford you no more time.”

“Right.”

Lance and Keith both stayed seated while the others pushed back their chairs and got to their feet. Shiro passed by them on his way out of the room, reaching out to pat Lance’s shoulder and then Keith’s before he and Thace exited.

“It’s good to have you two back in one piece,” Coran said, following suit and patting them, “it’s been dreary around here without you.”

“You can say that again,” Matt added from where he stood at his side, “I’m glad to see you guys; welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Lance smiled at the two of them, “it’s good to see you too.”

“If you need anyone to talk to, you know I’m here for you both,” Allura offered as she passed, reaching out to muss Keith’s hair a little and grinning at his instant scowl, “you’ve been missed.”

Pidge was the last one in the room with them and when she drew near them, she balled her hand into a fist and proceeded to land a well-aimed punch on Lance’s right shoulder just before turning to land another on Keith’s left.

“That was for scaring the hell out of me,” she declared, giving each of them a pointed glare before she allowed her stern expression to be broken.

Before Lance had time to recover, she leaned closer and threw her arms around his neck.

“Thank you for bringing him home safe,” she murmured softly against his ear before she drew back and turned to hug Keith, leaning against the back of his chair and tightening her arms over his shoulders “and don’t you ever do that to me again.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile as she lingered, watching Keith’s hands rise to rub over her arms. The Cat Sith let his head fall back against her shoulder and he was quiet for a moment, letting her have some time to cement the idea that he was home and he was safe.

“I’ll do my best,” Keith said quietly, hands stilling on her wrists, “okay?”

“You always say that,” she grumbled as she lifted her head, a shimmer at the corner of her eyes catching Lance’s attention, “just make sure you come back, dumbass.”

“You’re starting to sound sentimental, Katie.”

“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes, “don’t make me punch you again.”

“Everybody wants to punch me, recently,” Keith sighed, but Lance spied the corner of his mouth lifting into a crooked smile.

“You just have a way with people,” she shrugged, reaching up to push her hair back behind her ear.

Lance pretended not to notice her thumb snake out to dry the tear at the corner of her eye.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

Katie pulled the door closed behind her as she exited the conference room, leaving Lance and Keith alone.

“Are you okay?”

The pair let out an awkward chuckle at the simultaneous question.

“No, are _you_ okay,” Keith asked, shaking his head, “you’re the one who really got a shock.”

“I don’t think that’s fair, we both got a shock, but… I don’t really know.”

Lance leaned forward in his seat, crossing his arms over the top of the table and resting his chin on top of them.

“Is it Hunk?”

“Mostly. I mean, I don’t know how to feel. On one hand, I can’t say that I would have done anything differently if our situations had been reverse but I mean… Is it wrong that I feel betrayed?”

“No,” Keith answered instantly, “I don’t blame you.”

“I wish _I_ didn’t,” Lance sighed, “I just… I felt like he was the one thing in my shitty life that made sense, you know? He was always there. Now I find out he was only there because he was being paid to be there.”

“I don’t know, Lance; from what I’ve seen, and from the way Hunk reacted, I don’t think that your friendship was any less real because of it. I mean, I get that it started because of Thace but that doesn’t have to mean that he isn’t your friend.”

Lance couldn’t help but snicker as he turned to lay his cheek on his arms, facing Keith. There was still bitterness where the wound was raw but he wondered if Keith wasn’t right. For now, however, he didn’t want to think about it.

“Thanks, but seriously, are _you_ okay?”

“I’m fine, Lance.”

“You are the worst liar.”

“What makes you think I’m lying?”

Lance rolled his eyes, “did you forget that I’m looking right _at_ you? Your tail is still flicking around and you’re doing that thing again where you scratch at the inside of your arm. I told you weeks ago, I can tell when something’s bugging you; not that it takes a rocket scientist or Miss Cleo.”

“I’m okay, I just… I think I just need to sleep on it.”

“Keith, it’s just me.”

“Ugh,” Keith groaned, leaning back in his chair and letting his head loll back, “I just don’t trust that guy.”

“You know, this could be a good opportunity to learn something about what we talked about. He might know something or be able to help.”

“I know, okay? I’ve thought about that. It’s just… I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

“Well, he’s not going anywhere so you have time.”

“Yeah.”

Keith’s shoulders were still stiff and his tail was still swishing, the breeze from the motion pushing several specks of dust across the floor. Lance knew what it was to be conflicted and he felt Keith’s discomfort.

“I’m going to take a little walk and clear my head,” he said after a minute, “today has been a mess.”

“You can say that again.”

“I’ll see you later,” he said as he lifted his head from his arms and pushed his seat back.

Lance stood and pushed his chair in but before he could turn, Keith reached out and grabbed hold of his hand. His eyes were sharp as they latched onto his and for a moment his tail stilled.

“Be careful around him Lance, and if he does anything weird you come and get me.”

“I’ll be fine, Keith, you worry too much.”

“About you? Definitely.”

Lance swallowed hard as he turned away, trying not to let the thought go to his head as he left the room; it was too tempting to think about Keith thinking about him. With each step, he felt his mind cloud and when he made it to the foyer, he couldn’t help but look back towards the stairs. As much as he wanted to forget about it or, at the very least, push it to the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder; what was he going to do about Hunk? He had just turned his attention away when the door to the den opened.

“We’ll speak again later,” Shiro’s voice carried through the doorway even before he could be seen, “make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.”

Instead of Shiro, however, it was Thace who exited the room. He paused when he noticed Lance, ducking his head in a passing greeting before he began walking towards the staircase. Before he could stop himself, Lance called out to him, “wait.”

Pausing again, Thace turned to look back over his shoulder, his hand poised on the railing of the staircase, “yes?”

“Do you have some time to talk?”

Thace was already turning around and walking towards him, as though he’d known exactly what he was going to ask and had already resolved himself to accompany him.

“Of course; what would you like to talk about?”

“My parents.”

The man nodded thoughtfully but the polite smile he wore turned down at the corners. Lance hadn’t been planning to bring it up just yet, not when this man was still a stranger, but it was just not something he could sit on any longer. Thace had known them, _actually known them_ , and he was the only one who could tell him who they were and what they were like; Thace was his only connection to them.

“Is there somewhere quiet where we can talk?”

“Yeah, follow me.”

With the man in tow, Lance lead Thace outside and around the house, down the walkway past the pond and to the gazebo. Ordinarily he might have walked a little slower, savored the crisp air and the work Matt had done on the gardening, but all he could think about was that he was finally going to learn about them, even if it was just a few fragmented bits. Lance took a seat at the right side of the curved bench when he stepped inside the structure, pulling his left leg up and tucking it beneath him so that he could face Thace where he took a seat in the center.

“What would you like to know?”

What _didn’_ t he want to know? A million questions blew through him, all of them branching off into another set of questions that seemed unending. He wanted to know everything there was to know.

“I just want to know who they were,” Lance said quietly after a few minutes of thought, “what they were like, you know?”

Thace chuckled slightly at that, “you’ll have to forgive me if I take a few minutes to try to think of where to start, it has been a long time.”

“Take your time.”

Thace hummed to himself, looking absently off towards the mountains while he gathered his thoughts.

“Your father, Elon, was a Miami native,” Thace said after a moment, “he was of mixed heritage, hence the surname ‘McClain.’ He came to Scotland on a whim, he had a wanderlust and no heavy family ties to keep him rooted. He found work at a shipyard in Glasgow working the River Clyde. I didn’t know him then, mind you, but we spoke often after I became their guardian and he told me little things about them.”

“What else?”

“Hmm,” Thace tilted his head slightly, “he met your mother, Mara, at a culture festival in Glasgow. To hear him tell it, she was dancing through the street like nobody was watching even though everyone _was_. She was a free spirit, that was for sure; the type of woman who danced in the rain and could talk anybody into anything…”

Thace paused there and laughed a little to himself, a fond smile on his lips, “she caught your father by surprise and he was absolutely smitten.”

As much as he tried, Lance couldn’t see her face as he tried to picture her in his mind.

“What did they look like?”

Thace didn’t seem the least bit surprised by his question, his eyes combing Lance’s features.

“Your father looked a little like you, though he was built sturdier and his hair was long; he kept it pulled up and knotted. Your mother was slim, willowy like a sapling, with long, curled, brown hair and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen. They were a handsome couple.”

“Was that what she looked like to him or to you?”

“Hm, do you mean what did she truly look like?”

“Yeah, what sort of fae was she?”

“Much like your father, she too was of mixed heritage; her father was a Nix but her mother was a Kelpie. Her true form was similar to her human one, though her hair reached nearly to her thighs and faded into shades of blue the closer it came to the ends. In the water, or even the rain, her skin would shine like scales from murky greens to silver.”

Lance closed his eyes and tried to picture them, the details coming together in an image that sunk to his heart and burned itself into his mind’s eye.

“You mother also had a beautiful voice,” Thace added, pulling Lance from back to the present, “and she used to sing to you before you were born, even when things were bad. Your father used to like to say that she was like a siren, seducing him with song. Of course, if he’d ever actually _met_ a siren he might have changed his tune.”

There was a glint off of the Cat Sith’s canine as he smirked a little at his unintentional joke. There was a fondness in his voice when he spoke of them and a little sparkle in his eyes that Lance didn’t miss.

“You were close with them, weren’t you?”

“Understand, Lance, that my job was to protect them. Protection isn’t easy on any party and in my experience, it often leads to hostilities. Your parents though,” he trailed off for a few seconds, “they were unlike any people I’d ever met. There are some people in the world who light up any life they touch, no matter how dim; that’s just how Elon and Mara were. They were special, truly; I wish you could have known them.”

Lance sighed despite his smile, shaking his head a little, “I do too, but that’s a _really_ unnecessary way to say ‘yes,’ you know.”

His companion let out an amused snicker, side-eyeing him, “I suppose it was. Yes, we were close.”

“I’m sorry, then.”

“For what?”

“For bringing them up. I’m glad to know about them, really, but if you were close to them then I’m sure it’s not something you like to think about.”

“That’s not true. What happened to them pains me greatly but to try to put away their memory does them a great disservice. As I said, they were incredible people. Their memory deserves to live on even if they cannot, and I can think of no one better to share it with than their son.”

“Thank you,” Lance murmured quietly, leaning his head against the railing of the gazebo, “it’s nice to know about them. I was beginning to think I never would.”

“They never wanted this for you Lance, but they both would have been proud of you and the man you are. I’ve watched over you for a long time and I can say without any reservations that you truly are the best of both of them.”

It was impossible for him to stop the sudden flooding of his eyes and Lance ducked his head as those words filled his chest like rays of light, threatening to reduce him to sobs right there on that bench. He’d gone his entire life without knowing them and he’d assumed that he would never so much as know their names, but now he could almost see them and to have someone who had known them so intimately say such kind things was more than he could withstand. Clenching his teeth, he did his utmost to contain himself, trying not to break in the face of words he’d never known he needed to hear.

“We do not have much time to fix what has been done,” Thace spoke softly before laying a comforting hand on top of Lance’s head, “but today is yours. There’s no shame in grief, especially for someone who never got the chance to grieve. I understand that you may not trust me after all that you’ve learned, but I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to help you. We will open the Traveler’s Pass and it is my hope that it will remain open. Your parents deserved to get to see you grow up but they were robbed of their chance because of hatred; we will not allow that hatred to take any more lives.”

“No, we won’t,” Lance forced out, swallowing thickly as he raised his head, blinking to clear his vision of tears, “they haven’t won yet.”

Thace let his hand fall away but a small smile remained as he nodded his head, “you may have your mother’s eyes but you are so much like your father; he also had a fighting spirit ten times bigger than he was.”

“You say that,” Lance chuckled as he wiped at his face with the back of his hand, “but Keith nearly murdered me when I first got here. I told him I wanted nothing to do with this nightmare and he could take it back.”

“I’d like to meet the man who would have been fine with seeing what you saw.”

“Have you met Keith? He’s the other guy with the ears and the tail.”

Both of them shared a small laugh.

“Thank you for this,” Lance said after a few minutes of silence, feeling a sense of calm and renewed purpose, “for talking to me.”

“It was my pleasure,” Thace responded genuinely, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you properly for some time now.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Lance snickered as he stood, “anyway, I think I’m going to go have a talk with Hunk. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Thace echoed with a nod.

 


	19. The Road to Understanding

Keith was still seated in his chair in the conference room when he caught a flash out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he watched as Lance passed by the window, his features drawing into a frown when he noticed Thace followingly closely behind him. He could feel his lip curl as they passed from view and he had to quell the urge to walk over to the window to continue watching them. The sound of his tail smacking against the legs of his chair was the only noise in the otherwise silent room, the dull twinge from each collision quickly forgotten as he thought about Lance alone with that stranger; that Unseelie Cat Sith. Keith grit his teeth at the thought of Lance without protection in the company of Thace.

He dropped his head, staring blankly at the tabletop while his hands clenched and unclenched. As long as he was here, Keith doubted that he’d have any peace of mind, as little as he might have had otherwise. Within him, he was conflicted; there were so many questions that he yearned to ask, so many things that he needed to know, but at the same time Thace was an Unseelie fae who was in their presence based on his word alone.

In one quick motion, Keith stood, the legs of his chair scraping loudly across the floor as it was pushed back. He’d had enough of sitting around and letting the thoughts fester and the longer he sat in that chair, the more he had to curb his urge to walk outside after Lance. Without bothering to push in the chair, Keith turned and made for the basement; the only way to keep his mind off of Lance was to put it towards something else and he had been laid up for far too long during his recuperation in Miami. He hadn’t even gotten to the base of the stairs before his ears were perking up, several repetitive ‘thuds’ drifting to him as he continued to the bottom.

When his feet hit the gym floor, he swiveled his head towards the noises and noticed Shiro off towards the corner of the equipment area, his fists connecting solidly to the heavy punching bag hanging from the ceiling. His back was turned to Keith and he didn’t seem to have noticed him yet. After watching him for a few seconds, Keith turned off towards the changing area and slipped into some sweats before he walked back out and approached him.

“Hey.”

If Shiro was surprised, he didn’t show it.

“Hey,” he echoed, turning his attention away from the bag momentarily to nod his acknowledgement, “I thought I might see you down here sooner or later.”

“You waiting on me?”

Shiro reached out to slow the bag’s sway before he turned fully towards him. He’d traded in his usual slacks and pressed sweater for baggy gym shorts and a black t-shirt and his hair was held back by a thin black band that kept his bangs out of his eyes. Throwing his arm up to wipe away the thin sheen of sweat on his brow, he nodded, “yeah. You want to take a few shots?”

Curious, Keith shrugged but kept an eye on Shiro as he moved behind the bag and put his hands on it to keep it steady and gauge the strength of his jabs. Keith gave a few light taps to warm up before he was hit by the reminder of Lance alone with the Unseelie behind the manor and then there was power in his connections. His fists hit the bag with force, each connection stronger and more jarring than the last.

“Did he rile you up that much?”

Keith didn’t answer, throwing an uppercut before he turned on his heel and landed a loud kick just above Shiro’s left hand.

“I guess he did,” Shiro said after a low whistle, looking at the quickly reflating dent that Keith’s foot had left in the bag.

“I don’t trust him and I don’t think we should be leaving him alone with Lance. Aren’t we supposed to making sure he’s safe? We don’t even know that guy,” Keith growled, drawing back and slamming his curled fist into what would have been gut level for someone a little bigger than him… Someone like Thace.

“Do you dislike him because he’s an Unseelie Cat Sith or because he’s going to monopolize Lance?”

It was by sheer dumb luck that Keith was able to keep his balance, the question throwing him off so that his next punch missed the bag completely and nearly sent him to the floor.

“What the hell are you talking about,” he sputtered, glaring at Shiro as he straightened, “he’s a stranger who just walked in here like he belonged and suddenly we’re following his cues; why shouldn’t I be suspicious?”

“So, you’re not worried about Lance?”

“Of course I’m worried about Lance, we don’t know Thace and yet they’re out there, alone, and no one else seems to be batting an eye.”

“You know that I won’t let anything happen to him and that he’s safe on the grounds, Keith.”

“Our security isn’t made to protect us from what’s already on the inside of the estate.”

“You really think that I wouldn’t put measures in place for as many instances as I could? You know me better than that Keith. Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you, _really_ bothering you?”

“Would it kill you, just once, to not do that?”

“Do what,” Shiro asked innocently.

Keith scowled and groaned, pushing back his sweat-laden bangs, “you always _know_ ; it’s annoying.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re so easy to read.”

“I’m getting tired of people saying that,” Keith huffed.

“Does he tell you that too?”

There was a teasing lilt to Shiro’s voice and that only made Keith scowl a little deeper.

“Come on, Keith, what’s going on?”

Shiro stepped out from behind the bag and gestured for him to follow as he made his way to the closest bench. Wordlessly, Keith followed.

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” Shiro began once Keith had taken a seat on the opposite side of the bench, “and that’s why I’m sure that it’s more than Thace being here that’s bothering you. I’ve seen you upset over decisions that have been made here in the past and I’ve seen how you handled them; you’ve never been this irritated. You trust me, don’t you?”

They had known each other for nearly a century, a century during which they had seen each other, and the rest of the group, through various ups and downs. The knowledge of their impending mortality and eventual death, the frustration of constant failure and setbacks, and the sporadic disputes of strangers beneath one roof had forced them to bare themselves to one another and in those moments of vulnerability and despair, they had come together; they had come together as a makeshift family. There wasn’t a person in their group that Keith didn’t trust with his very life.

“You know I do, Shiro.”

“Then talk to me. You know that whatever you say is strictly between us.”

“I know.”

“So, what is it?”

“It’s a lot of things,” Keith answered, leaning his head back against the wall, staring blankly up at the ceiling, “I never thought I’d see another Cat Sith. There are things I want to know, need to know, but I just don’t trust him and I can’t know how much of what he tells me I can take to heart.”

“No one blames you for distrusting him. When Hunk told us about his role and said that this ‘Thace’ wanted a meeting, we were all distrustful.”

“Was that why you didn’t tell us anything this past week?”

Shiro nodded, pulling the band out of his hair and wrapping it twice around his wrist, “we didn’t want to say anything to worry you or Lance. We wanted to give you as long as we could to heal before we brought you back since we knew that you’d be back in the fray before long.”

“What do I do?”

“I wish I could tell you, Keith, but you’re going to have to decide on your own. If I knew anything, I would tell you, but sadly there’s very little trustworthy information about the Cat Sith. I will tell you, though, that Thace is your best chance at learning something. I’m not telling you that you have to trust him, but hearing what he has to say can’t hurt.”

“I know.”

From his periphery, Keith noticed Shiro watching him for a moment before the corner of his mouth lifted a little.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“How was Miami?”

“Hot.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I was asking.”

He knew exactly what Shiro was asking; _how was being cooped up with Lance for weeks?_

“It was… Nice,” he said simply, unwilling to divulge any of the details of his stay.

Shiro nodded, as though that’s what he’d hoped he would say, “I’m glad. It is good to have you back, though.”

“Thanks, it’s good to be back, despite the constant danger and surprises,” he added with a sardonic smile.

“Well, we can’t have you getting bored.”

“What even _is_ boredom in this house?”

“That is an excellent question.”

They shared a laugh before Shiro stood from his seat.

“I wanted to tell you that I spoke with Thace after our meeting and he wanted me to let you know that he wouldn’t mind if you sat in on his session with Lance in the morning,” he said, “it might be a good idea to join them and see how you feel afterwards. You might decide to talk to him.”

The thought of Lance alone with Thace was unpleasant so the idea that he’d be able to accompany him took a little of the stress from his shoulders.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said flippantly though both of them knew that he had already made up his mind.

“Get some rest, Keith,” Shiro smiled, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder and giving it a supportive squeeze.

“Yeah, thanks, Shiro.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Thace and Lance entered the conference room the next morning, Keith was already seated in the first seat to the left of the head of the table, waiting. It was impossible not to notice the change in Lance’s posture as he walked through the door that Thace held for him, and it was even more impossible not to notice the easy smile he offered up in thanks. Had their conversation the day before really changed so much? Had he forgotten who that man was and what he’d done? The calm aura that Keith had been cultivating since the previous afternoon began to darken little by little at the spectacle.

“What are you doing here, Keith,” Lance asked when he saw him, brows drawing together, but he was quieted by Thace, who put a hand on his shoulder.

“I said that it would be alright if he joined us. You don’t mind, do you Lance?”

“No, not at all.”

“Excellent, then have a seat here,” Thace gestured at the head of the table, standing beside the chair while Lance took a seat.

Thace looked more approachable than he had the day before, trading in his suit for a more relaxed ensemble consisting of a white polo, grey cardigan, and khaki chinos, and he seemed completely at ease with Keith’s presence, sparing him no more attention than he might an insect.

“Okay, Lance,” Thace said, standing behind him, “I want you to listen closely. I’m going to say a phrase and I want you to repeat it.”

Lance nodded, the early hour doing nothing to diminish the determination swimming about in his gaze. When Thace spoke the phrase that he wanted Lance to repeat, Keith squinted. Though he recognized the language, he could not identify the words. There were many dialects known to fae and though they were as different as the races that spoke them, most of them were built from the same original base; a language spoken crafted and spoken by some of the early leaders of Elphame, the region of the Seelie Court. There was one language, however, that came before even theirs, known as the language of the Elder Fae, a group of ancient fae said to have been the first of their kind. It was believed that the language itself acted almost as sort of magic in itself, the sounds creating spells when the words fell from the tongue.

So few fae could speak or comprehend Elder Fae that no one knew the truth of it, either how it had come about or whether or not the words truly held any sort of mysticism. As far as Keith was aware, there were only two groups that knew any of the first words; the keepers and their guardians. There was an uncomfortable tensing in his muscles as Thace spoke, the words themselves acting as his authentication; if he could speak Elder Fae, then it was nearly certain that he was exactly who he claimed to be.

Lance nodded his head and listened to Thace repeat the phrase before he tried it himself. He stopped several times, the strange words catching on his tongue, and Keith watched as he finally got them right on the fourth try. Keith felt his body freeze up at the instantaneous gasp that shot through Lance’s lips as the last syllable fell from his tongue. The blue of his iris’ seemed to pulse and his eyes were wide, hands clenching on top of the table. Thace put his hands on his shoulders to ground him.

“What do you feel, Lance?”

Lance tipped his head back to look up at Thace, blinking rapidly.

“There’s so much pressure,” he rasped, squinting, “like it’s buzzing in the back of my head.”

“Like when we went out to the site a few weeks ago,” Keith asked, remembering Lance nearly falling to his knees after saying that there was buzzing in his mind.

“Just like that,” Lance answered shakily dropping his head, “just like that. What do I do, Thace?”

“Your mind locked away the information because at first it was too much to handle. The words that I had you speak opened the section of your mind where it was all locked away. Now that it’s open, you have access to that information. I want you to think of your mind like a library. Think of the way that your memory works, how well and how long you remember things that you’ve read.”

“That’s not really a talent or anything, I just have an eidetic memory-“

“Yes and no. Your memory is due to your blood, which means that it doesn’t work like it would for a normal human with an eidetic memory. You immediately encode the information into your mind and shelve it away in an internal filing system. The information you gained several weeks ago is uncategorized and jumbled, sitting in a haphazard pile in the corner of your brain. You have to sort through it to put it in its place and then you can recall it at will.”

Keith kept a watchful eye on Lance as Thace spoke quietly to him, clenching his teeth at how, as Thace continued to speak, Lance just appeared more and more miserable. Sweat beaded on his brow and his knuckles were white where his hands were fisted. As much as he wanted to pull him away, to wipe that pained look from his face, Keith knew there was no other way; Lance had to get through this now that he knew Thace was legitimate. Thace began to give Lance cues in Elder Fae to repeat, each word easing some of the rigidity of his features after he repeated them. It went on that way for nearly an hour with Thace providing the keywords to help Lance sift through small amounts of the data without overloading himself. At the end of the hour, Thace no longer spoke and simply stood steady and silent behind Lance as he mumbled the words he’d memorized under his breath.

“There are words to release the knowledge and then there are words to tie it together,” Thace spoke finally when Lance stopped muttering, “but for now, we’re done with all of that. I have one question for you and then you’re free to go.”

Cold sweat glistened against Lance’s skin and his breath was still uneven but nevertheless Keith was surprised to find him smiling.

“Okay, what is it?”

Thace moved away from the back of Lance’s chair and took a seat opposite Keith to Lance’s right, angling so that he was looking at Lance.

“Of what do I speak when I mention the Slyvan Wars?”

Keith looked from Thace to Lance. If Lance knew the answer to his question then he’d been successful to understanding what he’d gained. All of Keith’s attention fell on Lance and he watched as the halfling looked down at the tabletop, narrowing his eyes. For several seconds, there was nothing but silence but then Lance lifted his head.

“The Sylvan Wars were battles fought between the Elves and the Druids. There have been six different skirmishes but the last known Sylvan War began only a year prior to the war between fae and human.”

Thace looked over to Keith and met his stunned gaze fully, a smile curving his lips as he nodded his head.

“That is exactly right,” he affirmed without turning his gaze, “very well done, Lance. We are finished for now; you are dismissed.”

Keith broke the connection to look back to Lance who had broken in to a wide grin while he used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe away the sweat from his brow.

“Thanks, Thace. I feel… better.”

“I thought you would.”

Though Keith had to accept the knowledge that Thace was a legitimate part of their group now, it still made him scowl to see how easily the two of them got along. There was a warmth between them, something that certainly hadn’t been present before, and it rubbed him the wrong way. Lance looked up to Keith, nodding towards the door, “you want to go spar Keith?”

Thace lifted his chin and looked over to Keith before waving Lance off.

“Actually, I need to speak to Keith.”

“Oh,” Lance looked a little disappointed but quickly covered it, “okay, well I’ll be around. Thanks again, Thace.”

“Go rest, Lance, take it easy.”

Keith had spent most of their session, when he wasn’t watching and waiting for Thace to slip up, thinking over what Shiro had told him and wondering if he could ask him what was on his mind. It seemed that Thace knew well enough what he was thinking. Both Thace and Keith were quiet as Lance left the conference room, waiting until the sound of his footsteps receded down the hallway until Thace spoke.

“Are you ready to ask me your questions yet?”

Before Keith could even open his mouth, Thace continued, “it is only natural to be curious. I give you my word that I will answer any questions you have to the best of my ability.”

“Let me start with a warning before I say anything else,” Keith began, composing himself and threading his fingers together on top of the table as he leaned forward and pinned the man with a sharp look, “I don’t know what happened between the two of you yesterday but I can tell that he seems to trust you. He means a lot to us and I swear to you that if you do anything, and I mean anything, to put him in danger you won’t have to worry about the rest of the group because I will kill you myself; are we understood?”

In all honestly, Keith had almost expected Thace to laugh. Between the difference in their statures and his apparent wealth of knowledge, Keith doubted that it would be an easy feat, but the thought of Lance coming to harm because of him lit his blood on fire and had his canines lengthening to prod at his lower lip. Thace did not laugh, however, and gave a solemn nod.

“I would never want anything to befall Lance and I’m here to do my utmost to keep him safe and help him. You have my word that I will not bring him to harm; I know how much you care for him.”

Keith swallowed thickly at the last bit of his words. He found it hard to keep the direct eye contact as all of the questions that had been swirling around in his mind formed a queue in his throat.

“Are there others?”

Thace, too, let his gaze fall momentarily before he looked back at him.

“We are,” he said, pausing for a second, “few.”

“That’s what I thought. Aside from me, when was the last time you saw another of us?”

There was an unmistakable melancholy in the strange blue and gold of Thace’s gaze.

“When my mate traveled through the pass, before all of this began.”

Keith felt his ears perk up.

“So, there are more-“

Thace was quick to shake his head, “my mate did not make it back before the gate was sealed. As far as I am aware, you and I are the only living Cat Sith on this side of the pass.”

Keith deflated, unable to stop his shoulders from slumping a little in dejection. It wasn’t as though he’d thought any different, but that momentary hope… Well, he should have known better.

“I’m sorry,” he commented softly, “I’m sure that was difficult.”

“Every day is difficult,” Thace responded easily, “but we do what we must to go on. Is there anything specific that you wish to know?”

The questions didn’t need time to form.

“There is something that’s been worrying me,” Keith admitted, looking down at his linked fingers, “what do you know about the limit on our transformations?”

“Ah,” Thace nodded sagely, the sadness lifting a little, “you’re worried about not being able to switch back to your form. There is some truth to the myth, though not as much as you fear.”

Keith didn’t want to be too hopeful but he felt his ears perk up a little further.

“You can shift more than nine times without being stuck in your transformation,” he told him, “but I will tell you that every shift past your ninth makes it a little more difficult to reign in the beast. You don’t lose your sentience or your ability to change, but you do lose a little more control each time you take your beast form.”

“Does that mean that you’ve gone past nine?”

Thace nodded again and Keith felt the fear that he’d been holding onto for years quickly ebb out of his body; the small chuckle he let out caused Thace to grin.

“I know that fear well, I was under the same belief for a long time. You are free to shift when you must, just be careful because the beast’s mind is powerful and you can’t imagine how much so until you pass the ninth.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Do you know why we’re under that impression? Why does everyone think that’s what happens? What kind of history is there behind it? What kind of history is behind _us_?”

Something about his openness had the floodgate on Keith’s reserves opening and he couldn’t stop the flow of questions as they left his mouth, each fighting to be answered.

“I’m sorry, Keith, but there isn’t much that I can tell you. In my experience, no one has those answers. In all of my years, all that I’ve learned is that piece about shifting. I wish that I could tell you more, I wish that I knew more, but sadly the quest for knowledge of our roots had to be put away for me when I began my work with the halflings.”

“But aren’t you curious? How can you live with not knowing? After how they treat us…”

Keith broke off, realizing that he was sharing too much with a stranger. He cleared his throat.

“How are we supposed to know anything about ourselves?”

“I can only offer you advice, Keith.”

“What advice is that?”

Thace leaned forward in his chair and his gaze was stern and serious.

“If you truly want to know about our history, then I suggest you invest yourself fully in helping Lance. With the knowledge contained in the libraries, he may well learn exactly what it is that you wish to know. As part of the guild responsible for him, I am forbidden to seek his gifts for myself, but you may partake in any knowledge that he wishes to share with you. The road to understanding our past may well run through Lance.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! As noted in the schedule ( [~Writing Schedule~](https://TheMoonlitPaladin.tumblr.com/WritingSchedule) ) I'm going on a short 4 week hiatus while school switches. I hope that you have a wonderful month and I'll see you on September 1st! Thank you so much for your continued support and kind words, your understanding is appreciated!
> 
> See you soon! Much love!
> 
> ###  ☽ MP ☾ 


	20. Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! It's great to see you all again and I wanted to let you know that things still might be a little slow after this update (probably an update every two weeks instead of one chapter every week) since school is still really rough and my medical issues are flaring. Regardless, I will keep on top of the schedule so make sure you keep that handy if you like being in the loop!
> 
> Thank you all so, so, much for being patient with me and I hope that you're all doing well and that you enjoy the chapters! X's & O's!
> 
> ### ☽ MP ☾

Lance closed the conference room door behind him as he left, brows knit together as he worried over whether it was truly best to leave the two of them alone together after how openly hostile Keith was when it came to Thace. He’d been hoping that he could get some time with him after his meeting with Thace, that maybe they could spar and he could try to soften his view of the new member of their group. Lance made a face as he walked down the hallway and through the kitchen; who would have thought that he’d be the one to want to defend Thace?

Lance’s mind drifted away and he found himself pausing when he reached the foyer, gaze drawn towards the staircase to his right as Hunk’s image drifted before his mind. After he’d left the gazebo the day before, he’d made for Hunk’s room but he’d found himself frozen in place outside of his door. With all that he’d learned since his harsh exchange, he’d wound up deciding that the two of them needed a little space before they spoke. He didn’t know what he would have said to him then and he doubted the conversation would have gone well. He’d gone to his own room and lain in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while the entirety of what he’d learned began to truly sink in.

Several times during his contemplation, tears had leaked from the corners of his eyes. He thought of all of the memories he had with his friend, his best friend, and he thought of what it meant to know that he’d, essentially, been a spy planted in his life. He thought of the parents he’d never known and how there had been affection in Thace’s voice as he’d spoken of them. He thought of how wonderful they must have been and how his life might have changed if he’d grown up with his parents; he thought of how proud he was to have had people who inspired such loyalty as kin, even if he’d never gotten the chance to know them himself. Lance didn’t know what waited beyond death, he’d always been something of a cynic about the afterlife, but he hoped, God did he hope, that there was something there for them.

Sleep hadn’t come to him quickly and the tears dried, though the thoughts of Hunk stayed near. He spent long hours into the night searching his feelings and by the time that he’d finally been able to rest, he’d decided what he wanted to say to him.

Though he knew Hunk slept like the dead, Lance doubted he’d got much more sleep than he had and despite the early hour, he expected that he would be awake. Making up his mind, Lance took a breath to steel himself, forced his posture a little straighter, and made for the stairs. He’d gotten to the top and just rounded the corner into the hallway when he paused.

“Oh… Hey,” Hunk greeted quietly.

Hunk stopped when he did, gaze sliding away from Lance’s as he shifted uncomfortably where he stood in the center of the hallway. It looked like he’d just left his room and, like he’d suspected, it didn’t appear that the man had gotten much sleep if the sag beneath his eyes was any indication. He was still wearing the orange sweater and cargo pants that he’d been wearing during the first meeting with Thace, though they were wrinkled all to hell.

“Hey, you busy,” Lance asked, walking forward at a leisurely place.

“Not really, I was just going to get some air.”

“Can it wait? I think we need to talk.”

Hunk’s hands clenched and unclenched down where they hung at his sides and there was a tic in his jaw, like he was trying to keep from speaking.

“Yeah, it can wait.”

Lance tipped his head towards his door, “let’s talk in my room.”

Hunk gave a silent nod and turned to follow him, padding behind him with bare feet and quietly moving into the bedroom when Lance held the door wide for him. As large as his temporary bedroom was, and it _was_ large, it seemed ten sizes too small the moment both men were within its walls and the door was closed. Lance took a seat on the edge of his bed and Hunk followed suit, taking a seat at the edge furthest from him. There was a thick, unwavering, stuffiness to the air as both men sat quietly, both trying to think of what to say and waiting to see if the other would speak first.

“I spent last night thinking over what you said yesterday,” Lance began, pulling his leg up onto the bed so that he could turn his body towards Hunk, “and I want you to know that I’m not mad at you anymore.”

Hunk opened his mouth to speak, a relieved smile spreading over his lips, but he was immediately quieted when Lance shook his head and held up a hand to stop him.

“I’m not angry with you, but I don’t trust you anymore. I need you to understand that.”

“I… I don’t blame you Lance, even if you were angry,” Hunk said softly, expression falling, “but there are things I want to say.”

“Go ahead, but know that nothing you say is going to change how I feel about what happened,” Lance smiled sadly, lifting a shoulder in resignation and dropping it, “you’re just a spy.”

“I told you that I wasn’t going to apologize and I meant that, I won’t, but I am sorry that it had to be like this. If things had been different, I never would have agreed. I know... I know that you think that our friendship was a lie and that I was only there because of Thace. At first, that’s exactly how it was. I was too busy with my mom to focus on some kid I didn’t know and I was kinda pissed that I had to play babysitter and make sure you didn’t get yourself in trouble. I got to know you though, Lance, and being your friend stopped being an act. You’re a cool guy, no matter what you think about yourself.”

Hunk chuckled a little to himself.

“I actually felt like Thace had done me a favor. You are the best friend I’ve ever had,” he said, “and no matter what you think, I mean it when I tell you that we might have started as friends because of Thace, but that stopped after a few weeks. When I took you to my house, all those nights that you stayed with me because your family sucks, when I went with you when you stole that stupid yacht, that wasn’t because of Thace; that was because we’re friends dude, and you’ll never have to go through that shit alone.”

Lance opened his mouth but Hunk shook his head.

“I’m not done yet. I know that you don’t trust me anymore and it hurts, it does, but I get it. That said though-“

Hunk’s expression changed in a flash, brows lowering as his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

“-I know that you’re in danger and I’m not going to leave you. You don’t have to be my friend, but I’m still yours. I can’t leave while you’re risking your life for whatever the hell is happening here.”

“Stop, Hunk. It’s too dangerous for you to stay. You don’t have any idea what’s happening and I’d rather it stay that way.”

“Screw that, Lance, I’m not going to let you get yourself killed-“

Lance groaned, raked a hand through his messy hair and glared, “you idiot, you could die here if you stay. I’m not going to let that happen to you or your mom; I owe her more than that. You’re going to be on a plane back home by tomorrow afternoon if I have to knock you out and put you on it myself and, _before you say that I can’t_ , I _promise_ you that you don’t really know anything about the people in this house; they would _absolutely_ help me make it happen. Don’t argue with me on this. If you’ve _ever_ cared about me at all, you’ll do what I’m asking and just go back home and keep your head down-

Both men nearly fell in surprise as the air was split by the deafening screech of what sounded like an air raid siren. Hands covering their ears, they both looked at one another in confusion before Lance’s heart started pounding like a jackrabbit’s.

“Stay here until I come get you,” he yelled over the screech as he pushed off from the bed and leapt across the room, bounding down the hallway.

Lance stopped when he noticed a flash of orange and he leaned over the banister and yelled down to Coran who was bent over someone.

“Coran!”

The man didn’t respond and the panic and fear that had been mingling in his chest clutched at him and then he was moving again, running for the staircase, hurrying down to join him. He realized why he hadn’t responded when he made it to the landing and saw what he was doing. Allura was on the ground in the fetal position, her face scrunched up in pain as she clawed at her temples, red welts already forming where her nails had raked over her skin. Tears ran down her face as she curled further in on herself, mouthing words that were drowned out by the constant wail of the siren. Lance could only stand by for a few seconds after he realized what she was mouthing; _It’s in my head!_

“Coran,” Lance yelled, finding his feet and running to his side where he was trying to pull the princess to her feet, “what’s happening?”

Coran didn’t spare him a look, focused on helping Allura, “someone is trying to break through the perimeter and whoever they are, they’re strong! We need to find Shiro! Help me get her up!”

The pair took hold of her arms, pulling them away so that she couldn’t scratch at her face, and hoisted her to her feet. Coran pulled her tightly to his chest and lifted a hand to the crown of her head, a light glowing briefly beneath his digits before Allura’s body went completely limp and she sagged against him.

“She’s fine,” Coran shouted as he lifted her into his arms, noticing the look of alarm on Lance’s face, “I had to put her to sleep or she might have hurt herself.

Before he could respond, the front door burst open and both men braced themselves before noticing that it wasn’t intruders, it was Matt and Shiro. Both men looked as though they’d seen hell riding towards them, features pinched and serious. Matt, however, looked as though he’d actually _fought_ death. There was a sickly pallor about him and all of his visible skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. His hands shook as he held tightly to Shiro’s shoulder, fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his shirt as though he needed the support lest he crumble into a pile at their feet. No sooner than the front door slammed closed behind them, Thace and Keith came racing out from the kitchen hallway and Pidge was at the top of the staircase with Hunk, both making their way down to the group.

“We need to move,” Shiro yelled after he did a quick count to make sure everyone was in attendance, voice booming above the siren’s wail, “there are beasts at the gates. Matt and I did what we could to give us some extra time but we need to get moving now! Everyone get to the basement! Move!”

“Lance, what’s going on,” Hunk asked, his voice shrill, head whipping around as he watched everyone start moving, “what does he mean by beasts?!”

“We don’t have time for questions now, just move,” Lance shouted, pushing him forward.

Keith and Thace waited for the pair, taking up the rear while Pidge ran through them to help Shiro support Matt as they moved quickly through the kitchen and into the hallway. When they made it to the veer in the hall, they slowed. Where Keith and Thace had left the conference room in a hurry, they had left the double doors into the room wide open. The large windows spread throughout allowed all of them to see exactly what was coming for them.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Keith said, just loud enough for Lance and the tail end of the group to catch.

Enormous creatures, thick and tall like golems, were making their way towards the house as they broke through the layer of earth and rock that it seemed Matt had pulled up along the inside of the fence. The earthen walls were cracked and crumbling, breaking even then as more of the creatures forced their way through the dirt and rock. Clad in molded clothing shreds, the humanoid-esque giants lumbered steadily near, a thick, black, mist, hiding most of their bodies above the shoulders. It swirled and lashed out like a sentient being, crackling and biting at the air like a starved fire. From the massive arms of the creatures, a thick black sludge dripped onto the ground, scorching the earth as it fell.

They paused as a unit when they heard a low thrum followed by a loud ‘crack!’, the entire manor quaking violently and sending Matt to the ground as his legs gave.

“What the **HELL** are **THOSE THINGS** ,” Hunk exclaimed, backing up until the wall of the hallway was firmly at his back, his dark eyes as wide as dinner-plates, “ _what is happening here_?!”

“I told you, no questions,” Lance answered.

“Keep moving,” Shiro shouted as he helped Pidge pull Matt back to his feet, both of them acting as crutches, “we have to keep going! That house will hold against the bursts but it won’t hold forever!”

Just as the group started to move again, they stopped. Above the sound of the siren and the next two blasts that the manor, a voice crackled through the space. There were no words, instead it was a low, raspy, cackle that made Lance’s skin break out into chills; it chilled him to the very bone. At first he thought that it might have come from the creatures, but as they stood there, frozen, the creatures continually neared and the mist around them seemed to ebb and flow, giving them a glimpse of what lay beyond. Dread took hold of his body as Lance saw through the blackness. The voice couldn’t have come from the creatures when they had no head, only a bloodied stump oozing the black tar-like blood that ran down their limbs and burned the ground. The cackle continued once more and it became distinctly more feminine despite the depth and rasp.

“Move, everyone move now,” Thace barked suddenly, pushing at Keith and Lance, spurring the group forward once more.

“What is it, Thace,” Shiro called back to him even as he lead the way to the stairs, glancing briefly over his shoulder.

Lance did the same and looked back at him. The blood had drained from his face.

“I know that voice, it’s the voice of Zarkon’s witch; she hunts us.”

Lance gulped, hand rising unconsciously to the place he’d been hit in West Lothian. The cracks, groans, and shudders of the manor grew stronger as they moved, dust falling from the ceiling of the basement as they followed Shiro past the equipment to the empty end of the gym. Lance moved through the group, gingerly taking Matt’s shaking arm and wrapping it around his shoulders to help Pidge hold him up as Shiro extracted himself.

“Stand back.”

They all took several steps and watched as Shiro moved into a wide legged stance, and pulled back his right arm, the prosthetic glowing. With a yell, he balled his fist and slammed the metal of his hand into the cement wall. More dust fell from the ceiling as the room quaked and Lance watched as cracks spread through the wall and pieces began to fall with loud crashes, dust rising around them as the wall was broken open to display the large wall of dirt that lay behind it. Shiro turned and looked at Matt.

“Matt, I need you.”

“Look at him Shiro,” Pidge growled, glowering up at him while she readjusted her hold on his right arm, “he’s too hurt for this.”

“What choice do we have?”

Lance tightened his grip on Matt’s waist to take the brunt of his weight from Pidge. Matt’s entire body had gone cold, the skin of his arm clammy where it rested on Lance’s shoulders, and he was panting for air; she was right, he was in no shape to help anyone.

“I’m fine, Katie,” Matt tried to say before he was cut off by a fit of coughing that left his body trembling worse than before.

“No you aren’t!”

There were no glasses to magnify her eyes but, even so, there was no missing the tears welling in the corners of them as Pidge looked at her brother.

“I’ll do it,” she said then, “I’ll do it!”

They were all quiet as Shiro took her place at Matt’s other side and moved forward to place both of her hands on the wall. Lance thought back to his talk with Matt in the garden during his first week at the manor, remembering him implying that she wasn’t nearly as experienced with using her power on nature as he was.

“You can do it Pidge,” Lance called to her, “I know you can.”

“You’ve got it, Katie,” Keith called out next, nodding to Lance, “we know it.”

“You’ve got this,” Coran added, “right Shiro?”

“Yeah, yeah you do Katie.”

Her shoulders straightened a little with their words and they waited with bated breath as she slowly slid her hands apart. As her hands moved, so did the dirt beneath them, pulling up and over to create an awkward, asymmetrical tunnel.

“Good work Katie,” Matt called to her, smiling faintly, “just keep walking forward and stay focused. I’m here if you need me.”

“Always trying to be the hero,” she called back over her shoulder, layering the sarcasm over the pride.

“Everyone inside,” Shiro ordered, “follow her.”

There was a crash upstairs, the sound of breaking glass meeting their ears.

“NOW,” Shiro yelled.

Quickly, they all filed into the tunnel but Matt forced Lance and Shiro to stop once they’d passed into the dirt.

“I can do this much… at least,” he panted, reaching out to put his hand on the wall of the tunnel and look back behind them, a thick wall of dirt rising to cover the opening and submerge the group in total darkness.

“Oh shit, holy shit,” Hunk muttered frantically, “I can’t see-“

“Calm down, Hunk,” Shiro said seconds before a faint pinkish light was cast about the tunnel, “it’s going to be okay.”

“Be careful and budget your energy Katie,” Matt said before Hunk could continue his blathering, “if you don’t you’ll-“

“-Suffocate us from no air, drop a ton of dirt on us and crush us, oh my god what the hell is happening here?! Who are you people, how the hell did you do that, what the hell are those-”

“For the love of god dude,” Lance groaned, trying not to hold it against him, “save your freaking out until we’re safe. Let’s go, Pidgeon.”

“Shut up, Lance,” Katie quipped, but he could have sworn he saw her smile in the glow of Shiro’s prosthetic.

As they moved through the tunnel that Pidge was creating, the space behind them was constantly crumbling and filling with dirt, hiding their tracks while simultaneously sealing them in a small capsule of space. Lance didn’t know if any of them had any idea where they would end up, but all they could do was continue forward beneath the earth and pray that the tunnel wouldn’t become their tomb.

 

 

 

 


	21. Limits

Lance couldn’t be sure how long they had walked in the constantly shifting tunnel before the already warped ceiling began to lower, little by little, and dirt began to sporadically rain down upon the group of them. As they’d walked, Pidge’s breaths had grown consistently more labored and every so often there was a wobble to her legs.

“We really are going to die down here aren’t we,” Hunk lamented to Lance’s left, “we’re going to be crushed.”

“Do you see anyone else freaking out,” Lance rolled his eyes, trying to exude his most carefree attitude despite his own niggling fears, “no? Then you don’t have anything to worry about. Chill out.”

“How the hell are you so calm, anyway,” Hunk asked him, suspicious glint in his eyes clearly visible despite the low lighting emitted from Shiro’s prosthetic.

He couldn’t help the grim smirk at the question.

“Trust me, Hunk, I’ve seen _worse_.”

“Just do what you’re told, big guy,” Keith added from where he’d fallen into step at Lance’s right, “and everything will be fine. You’re in good hands.”

“Shame that we won’t be able to get him out of the country now,” Shiro sighed, “I was hoping that we could get him out without any hassles.”

“Best laid plans and whatnot,” Coran shrugged as much as he could with the dead-weight of an unconscious princess in his arms.

“Are we sure that we can’t all make it out of the country? I mean, c’mon guys, we’re in a moving tunnel underground! Surely we can figure something out,” Hunk laughed nervously, nearly losing his footing after his bare foot caught on a root, “right?”

“You wanted in? You’re in,” Lance said flatly as he reached out a hand to keep him from falling forward, “welcome to the fray.”

Matt, who had regained some of his color along the way, held up a hand after they’d walked another few minutes in silence.

“Everybody stop moving.”

The group all stopped dead in their tracks at the sound of his command and he extracted himself from Shiro’s hold to walk up to Pidge where her small frame was heaving for breath and her hands trembled on the wall of earth before them.

“You’ve spent a lot of energy, Katie,” he said softly, his voice almost inaudible for Lance who was near the back, “you need to open a path above ground.”

“I can keep going,” she shook her head fiercely, twin braided pigtails bouncing with the motion, “we have to get as far as we can-”

“If you keep going at this rate you’re just going to get someone, maybe all of us, hurt,” Matt continued, raising a hand to her shoulder, “you can barely keep this tunnel from collapsing as it is. Put your pride aside and think with your head.”

“Don’t lecture me,” she snapped, “if I say that I can keep going, I can keep going. It won’t matter what could happen if we don’t get far enough from the estate. When I’m running on empty, I’ll take us up but not a second before.”

Her voice softened a little and she began to push the wall before them away, “you just focus on feeling better and regaining some strength. I can do this, have some faith in me. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“This isn’t about you being a kid, it’s about knowing your own limits,” he shook his head, “and you’re tapped. Take us out Katie or I’ll do it.”

“We aren’t far enough,” she argued, “we need to go further-“

“We stand a better chance on foot above ground. They don’t know which direction we went in and at least up there we’ll have clear visuals. We’re as safe as we can be in the situation we’re in. Take us up.”

There was no more room for deliberation or stalling and that much was clear in the stern tone of his voice. No one else spoke, the group waiting as the siblings stared at one another, gauging the reality of where they stood. It was only a handful of seconds before Pidge’s shoulders drooped and she turned her attention back to the wall of earth. The ground began to quake and rattle beneath their feet and on both sides of them, making the capsule that they were standing in seem even smaller as they drew closer to one another.

“If I die, clear my browser history,” Hunk whispered, eyes clenching closed as the rumbling intensified and the walls began to crumble.

“If the tunnel goes, we’re all dead,” Keith said matter-of-factly, arching a brow as he leaned forward to look past Lance, “sorry pal.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Ye of little faith,” Pidge chuckled wearily as the dirt beneath her palms split open and the group was momentarily blinded by sunlight, “hurry up, I can’t keep the ground and tunnel open at the same time.”

There was a loosely packed bank sloping upward from the tunnel that had most of them sliding as they attempted to crawl towards the sound of chirping birds and fresh air. Thace put a protective hand on Lance’s back and one on Keith’s as they walked forward to keep them from slipping, their feet sinking as they trudged upwards. Shiro took the lead and pulled Pidge forward while Matt stayed at the entrance, a hand on the wall to keep it from closing as the rest of them continued up. Shiro moved back into the tunnel’s maw to help them, taking Allura from Coran and placing her just beyond the opening before rejoining them and pulling them up one by one.

Lance gulped greedily at the chilly air, grateful for something other than the dank stagnation that they’d pushed through below ground. It wasn’t until the earth had closed behind them and they were all seated on the ground that Lance really looked around. Thick patches of ferns surrounded them and peeked out from beneath the shadows of sparsely clumped oaks, their feathered leaves ranging from tawny and gold to the muddy copper of early September. Beyond them the landscape rose and fell, rolling hills alight with color jutting up towards the sky to the North while it flattened into grazing fields to the West. If things had been different, he might have been struck by the picturesque beauty of it.

“We’ll take a short rest and then we need to keep moving,” Shiro spoke from where he was seated at the base of a towering oak, his head resting against the trunk, “we need to cover as much ground as we can.”

“Do you know where we’re going,” Hunk asked, pushing back sweat laden bangs that had flopped into his face.

“Yes and no. I know which direction we moved in so I know vaguely where we should end up passing through. Midlothian isn’t too far from here, maybe another ten or twelve miles. We can make it there before nightfall easily and there are plenty of places to hole up and get a real plan together. For now, I just want to get as far as we can get and find some shelter.”

“Why can’t we just find the road and flag a car or something? Isn’t that easier? Why are we going to rough it like animals?”

“We can’t bring more people into this, Hunk, or do you want to endanger more lives,” Keith asked where he sat a little further out from the rest of them, leaned against a large rock.

“No, of course I don’t.”

“Then this is the best way,” Lance nodded, “we can’t let anyone get hurt. The further out of view and contact we stay, the safer everyone is. You saw those things back there.”

“Oh, the big, lumbering, headless guys? Yeah, I saw them. Speaking of them, what the _hell are they_?”

Lance was keenly aware that every eye was on him. He shrugged a shoulder, it wasn’t as though they could lie to him when he’s very clearly seen them, and nodded, “go ahead.”

“Those were dullahans,” Thace answered, “headless ghouls.”

“At least I missed the ghouls this go around.”

All heads whipped around at the sound of Allura’s sleep-thick voice.

“Are you alright, Princess?”

“I am now,” she smiled feebly towards Coran as she nodded, brushing her hair back behind her ears and readjusting her pink flannel pajamas, “thank you.”

Coran grimaced as he helped her into a sitting position, “don’t thank me, I did have to knock you unconscious.”

“Thank you,” she said again, squeezing his hand, “I couldn’t have left the manor with that wretched creature clawing at my mind.”

“The witch,” Thace growled deeply, showing more open emotion that Lance had come to expect.

Allura nodded, her eyes narrowing, “it was in my head, pawing around looking for answers.”

She turned an apologetic look to Shiro, “I don’t know how much I was able to keep from her or what she might have learned. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Shiro shook his head, “you did what you could. Are you okay to walk?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, looking around at the group, “what about the rest of you? No one is hurt?”

“A little shaken up but mostly fine,” Shiro answered for them, looking around at the weary but thankfully unharmed faces, “how are you feeling Katie, Matt?”

“Better,” Matt answered though he still looked as though a stiff breeze might knock him over.

“I’ve been mostly dead for the better part of an hour,” Katie joked from where she lay on her back amidst a cluster of ferns, an arm tossed over her eyes, “but I’m peachy.”

Her voice was frail enough to have Allura crawling over to where she lay, paying no mind to the dirtying of her clothing, and peeling her arm away from her face.

“You sound frightfully weak,” Allura murmured, fingers running over Katie’s face as she tilted it from side to side, “how much energy did you expend? Are you alright to walk?”

“Stop fussing,” Katie sighed, though she didn’t make any effort to stop Allura from looking her over, “I’m just tired. You should check on Matt, he’s the one who nearly keeled over.”

“Matt can handle himself,” Allura answered as she leaned back, “you on the other hand don’t use your abilities for natural manipulation in the same way that he does. He knows the toll on his body; you don’t.”

“I’m fine, Allura. I just need to rest.”

Allura didn’t look very sure but she gave her a little space nonetheless, though she was sure not to stray too far from her. Lance looked back in the direction that they’d come, wondering what the creatures and their master had done after realizing that they had escaped. He looked once more at the group, gaze sliding over each of the weary faces. Matt and Pidge were both covered in dirt, dark smears across their hands, clothes, and hair. There were cracks in the knuckles of Shiro’s prosthetic and every so often Lance would catch a buzzing noise emitting from within it. Hunk still looked as though he feared he’d be attacked an any moment while Thace and Keith were watchful. It was hard not to feel at fault for their hardships. He brought his knees up to his chest and crossed his arms over them, leaning his head down to rest it against the clammy skin of his forearms.

He stayed like that until Shiro stood.

“Alright, we need to get moving. Let’s go.”

Without a word, the group followed his lead and stood, beginning a steady pace North-West of where they’d emerged. Beyond the screeching of common fowl and the sounds of wind-rustled grasses, there was silence for much of their journey. All of them knew what lay behind them and the threat that they faced if they didn’t cover enough ground. Lance’s legs were trembling after the three hour mark, the muscles rebelling against the constant movements. After the hit he’d taken to the chest and time that he’d spent with Keith, it was the most physical activity that he’d endured in weeks and it was painfully clear to him as he fought to push himself over the inclines and steep valleys that Shiro led them through. It had been nearly five hours before they were finally finished.

As the afternoon sun played hide and seek behind a swiftly moving blanket of heavy grey clouds, the group was moving alongside the bank of a narrow river. The sounds of water rushing past large polished moss encrusted rocks filled the air alongside the sounds of small animals running through the underbrush and the group’s various panting breaths as they pushed onwards. A pair of kingfishers sat on the low hanging branches over a small isolated pool, blue and gold feathers standing out against the foliage of the glen’s large, ancient, hawthorns. It wasn’t long before the unsteady terrain smoothed and they were met with a visible trail partially covered with dead leaves. Tired and desperate for rest, they began to follow the path and came upon an area dotted with dilapidated walls and crumbling stone opposite a swift flowing channel.

As they neared, Coran was the first to notice the small worn plaque.

“We made it to Midlothian,” he said as he followed the worn letters with his finger, “we’re in the Roslin Glen reserve; this is the old powder-mill.”

Shiro surveyed the area with a keen eye, lingering on the large walls and the multiple places where the ground dropped, leaving overhangs that could conceal them. Lance felt his knees wobble and the throb in his muscles screamed at him as he stepped over a grouping of mossy stone, his toe catching on the edge. His knees buckled and he closed his eyes, readying himself to hit the ground.

“Be careful Lance,” Keith murmured into his ear as he caught him, positioning himself in front of him to keep him upright, “don’t worry, I think we’re going to stop here.”

Keith’s right hand rested on his hip, his shoulder pressed into his own. His warmth was welcome as the cool air whipped over the nearby water and stung at him through the fabric of his thin clothing. More than that, his touch was a soothing reminder that he was there with him; he was looking out for him.

“Thanks,” Lance muttered quietly, unable to look him in the eyes and thankful that the group was still moving forward and that only Thace had spared them a glance.

“There’s a lot of uneven ground right here, hold onto me.”

He didn’t get a chance to speak before Keith had slid an arm around his waist and began tugging him forward, pointing out each dip. They caught up to the rest of the group who had situated themselves on the ground beneath an overhanging ledge, the standing walls of the mill at their backs. Keith didn’t seem to be paying their arched brows any mind as he helped Lance to a spot before sliding down alongside him.

“I think this is as good a place as any to hole up for a little while,” Shiro announced after he’d taken a few breaths, “we know where we are and after we rest we can come up with a plan.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Pidge said after he finished, her lips pursed, “what the hell were dullahans doing out during the day and how the hell did they find us?”

“I have no idea, Katie,” Shiro answered with a sigh, “it doesn’t make any sense to me either.”

“Could you have led them to us?”

Everyone turned to look at Keith when he spoke, his eyes pointedly narrowed on Thace.

“Keith,” Shiro started sternly, but he stopped when Thace held up a hand.

“No, it’s alright. I’ve been giving it some thought myself and though I did all that I could to minimize the possibility of being seen, Zarkon’s witch knows my appearance and until we met at your manor, I didn’t have this gifted amplifier to hide my appearance. I’m sorry, but it is possible that I could have lead them to you.”

“Son of a bitch,” Keith hissed, leaning his head back against the stone.

“What’s done is done and that can’t be helped,” Shiro said after a moment, “we need you with us and we all knew the risks we face in this battle.”

“So now we have to worry about beasties during the daylight eh,” Coran sighed, “excellent.”

“Well, there are a few bright sides to this,” Allura broke in, “the monsters might know about Matt, Thace, and Shiro, but they don’t know the rest of our appearances.”

“We can’t know that Allura,” Shiro shook his head, “we have no way of knowing what the witch saw when she attacked you.”

“Be that as it may, it’s better that we make use of those of us who haven’t been seen. At least that way, we have a better chance of getting by unnoticed.”

“Might I proffer a suggestion?”

Once again, all eyes moved to Thace.

“While it is true that many of the keepers’ locations were ransacked and ravaged during the war, I know of three that were in decent condition when last I checked them and they were known only to guardians. If we can make our way to the nearest, we can also begin checking off the libraries. You’ll agree that we no longer have time to put it off.”

“After you basically just said that you could have lead those creeps to us, I’m having a hard time seeing why we should go anywhere you point us to; who knows what kind of trap we could be walking into.”

Thace’s lip curled the slightest bit, baring just a hint of a fang, “if I’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. I could have easily made off with, or killed, Lance if that was what I had wanted. I’m in just as much danger as you are and as admirable as your protectiveness might be, it’s starting to wear on my nerves.”

“I’m too tired to sit through this bitch-fest,” Pidge groaned, leaning to her left so that her head rested on Allura’s shoulder, “focus on what’s ahead.”

“And that’s coming from _her_ ,” Allura noted pointedly, “so remember what’s at stake and why we’re here.”

“So, yeah,” Hunk spoke up for the first time in a long while, “how about someone fills me in on what’s at stake and why we’re here? That’ be great.”

Lance ignored him, putting his attention where it mattered most, “Thace, where is the closest place you were talking about?”

“Perth, I believe, which is also the location of one of the libraries.”

Everyone around Lance sighed at the answer.

“Is that a bad thing,” he asked, looking from face to face.

“Perth is too far for us to try to hit on foot,” Matt explained, “we would need transportation and unless someone remembered their wallet…”

“I think we were too busy staying alive,” Pidge snorted, though her humor couldn’t cover the worry that sat very openly on her face.

“I still have some contacts just outside Edinburgh that I should be able to use to get us to Perth if that’s where we need to go,” Allura spoke up.

“No.”

For the first time since Lance had been with the group, Coran’s voice was almost harsh and held no room for argument as he shot down Allura’s words almost as soon as they had left her mouth. The usual light-hearted smile or thoughtful consideration was nowhere to be found as he shook his head.

“We cannot go to them.”

“Coran, it may well be our only choice.”

Allura looked to each of them as she explained, “I’m still in contact with several of the members of my father’s court; his chief advisor and several of his guards.”

“All of whom sided with the Unseelie once the fighting broke out,” Coran added with distaste, frown evident behind his mustache, “they’re elitists, willing to die themselves to keep the lines ‘pure.’

“But they followed my father faithfully,” Allura argued, “and I am still rightful royalty, they owe me their allegiance after swearing themselves to my house. As long as we keep our true intentions hidden, we should at least be able to make use of them and make our way as close to Perth as possible without giving away our destination. I know that it’s dangerous but we risk all our lives if we try to make it on foot when there are scouts openly attacking during the day.”

“It isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Matt said, looking over to Shiro, “what do you think? Do we have any other options or ideas?”

Lance watched Shiro, almost able to see the gears of his mind turning and turning in effort to find a less dangerous path.

“No, I can’t think of anything,” Shiro answered honestly, “Allura is right, it’s our only choice.”

“I’ll speak with them. At the very least I know that they don’t pose any harm to me.”

“You trust those degenerates far too much,” Coran shook his head, “I’ll accompany you; you never know what they might have in store.”

“I would like to see them raise a hand to me,” Allura smirked, a cunning twinkle in her eye, “do not forget that I’m more than a pretty face.”

“She’s also not conceited _at all,_ ” Pidge deadpanned, earning a playful, light, smack to the thigh.

“Alright, alright, focus,” Shiro broke in, though his mouth quirked upwards the smallest bit, “Allura and Coran, rest as much as you need and then head out for your contacts. Thace, I want you to accompany them.”

Thace seemed just as surprised as the rest of them at Shiro’s words.

“You want me to go with them?”

Shiro simply quirked a brow.

“Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” Thace answered, clearing his throat, “it’s just that-“

“I expect you to keep the both of them from harm and keep an eye on Alfor’s previous entourage. Keep off the main road if at all possible.”

Lance looked to Keith where he’d stiffened at his side, his eyes bouncing between Thace and Shiro.

“I’ll keep them safe,” Thace promised, his expression as solemn as if he’d just sworn his own life, “you have my word.”

“Good.”

For several long minutes, everyone was quiet where they rested against the crumbling remains of the powder mill, but the relative silence was broken by Hunk’s voice.

“Okay, can someone finally explain to me what the hell is going on?”


	22. Steam and Runes

Lance finally slid his gaze over to Hunk. He remained quiet for a few seconds before he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the cold stone. It was time, he supposed.

“Thace used you to keep an eye on me because I’m the only person who can get these guys back home. There are other people, er, _things_ , who want me dead because I’m between fae and human and that really pisses them off because that dirties their blood. Uh, think of me like a mud-blood from Harry Potter, I guess. Some people really hate me.”

The words seemed absolutely ludicrous as they left his lips and he might have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

“Did you say fae? Like, faerie? Like, tiny little floaty guys with wings and shit?”

Lance opened his eyes, unable to stop the amused smile at the thought of any of them fitting that description. Hunk’s brows were raised and his expression was one of irritated disbelief.

“Hey, Thace?”

“Yes?”

“Show Hunk what you look like if you don’t mind.”

Hunk’s brows knitted as he looked from Lance to Thace and back again, “I can see Thace just fine, Lance; would you stop screwing around and just answer my questions already? I’ve been honest with you about everything and no matter how you feel about what I did, the least you can do is-”

It was a little sadistic, the pleasure that Lance took in watching Hunk’s face change as Thace let his disguise fall away. Lance appraised Thace’s feline appearance, noting how spectacularly his eyes seemed to glow in the dimness of the cloudy afternoon and how the pallor of his skin stood out. His ears twitched when some small mammal ran through the brush on the far bank though his tail lay still at his side.

“I don’t really care what you believe, Hunk,” Lance shrugged, “but lying at this point would be too much effort and I’m out of energy. Everyone here is fae, but they’re good fae, not the guys who want me dead, obviously. We need to get to these places where I can decipher information that will hopefully let me figure out how to help them. That’s it, that’s the story.”

“I might have added the gruesome creature-features that have tried to kill you,” Pidge yawned, “but otherwise a good run-through.”

“That’s why we need to stay away from heavily residential areas right now,” Shiro nodded, “we can’t get humans involved; there would be mass panic if they caught a glimpse of the scouts being sent for us.”

Hunk didn’t, couldn’t, respond. When Lance turned his attention back to him, Hunk’s eyes were open wide as he stared openly at Thace.

“Hunk, are you listening,” Lance asked, waving an arm, “focus, dude.”

“Don’t tell me to focus when there’s a cat-man sitting in front of me,” Hunk snapped.

“You wanted to know, now you know.”

“So, like,” Hunk looked around, hooking a thumb towards Thace, “do all of you look like him?”

“No, Hunk,” Allura answered, “we’re all different with the exception of Keith, who is a Cat Sith like Thace.”

“What they are doesn’t matter,” Lance shrugged when she finished speaking, “all that matters is that your questions are answered. Pay attention and follow directions and you might get out of this alive.”

“This is all impossible. You know that, right?”

“Did you or did you not see giant headless guys at the manor,” Lance asked, narrowing his eyes, “did you or did you not walk through a moving tunnel underground? Throw the word ‘impossible’ out of your vocabulary, it doesn’t fit in our world anymore.”

“So, what, I’m just supposed to be okay with this? I’m just supposed to come along for the ride? We could die!”

Lance’s voice was deathly soft as he spoke, “I don’t care if you’re okay with it or not. You made yourself a part of this a long time ago; it’s time to pay the piper, Hunk. Deal with it or don’t, it doesn’t matter. You’re in this now and you will follow directions and keep your head down or you’ll die. That’s all that there is to it.”

He was aware of all of their eyes on him as he spoke matter-of-factly and he was also aware of how harsh his words had been. Lance thought back to his conversations with Keith and Shiro on his first days in the manor and how he’d received equally grim words in response to his own questions. The difference between them, however, was that Hunk hadn’t had a target painted on his back from birth.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Lance parroted Hunk, tilting his head suspiciously.

Hunk nodded after a moment, having seemingly found his resolve, “yeah, okay. I mean, this is some terrifying shit, but I meant what I said about not leaving you here when I knew you were in danger.”

“So, you’re buying all of this shit in the span of like five minutes?”

It was hard to imagine it being so easy for him to grasp when it had taken Lance several near-death experiences before he’d finally given up on trying to call the situation impossible.

“After what I’ve seen today, I’m willing to go on a little faith,” Hunk chuckled slightly, “besides, there’s not much I can deny when Thace is looking like that.”

“Good, no more questions then. Everyone here is capable of keeping you safe so just listen and you’ll be fine.”

Hunk didn’t seem to have anything else to ask and he fell into pensive silence, allowing the rest of them to sigh in relief.

“Anybody want to take a guess at how cold that water is,” Pidge asked after a few minutes, scrunching up her nose as she sniffed at her shoulder, “I smell like dirt and worms and I am _not_ okay with that.”

“If it was grease and the smell of solder, she’d never say a word about it,” Matt snickered from Shiro’s side.

“It’s probably frigid,” Allura frowned, “certainly too cold for a swim.”

“Actually, there may be a way to change that,” Thace spoke up, turning a grin towards Lance, “and it would be an excellent opportunity to see how much our young halfling has learned.”

“I know I’m supposed to be some sort of water fae, but I can’t turn water warm,” Lance scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest to ward off the chill, “you’ve got the wrong half-fae.”

“It’s not about your fae abilities, it’s about your keeper abilities,” Thace shook his head, grin still firmly in place.

Lance racked his brain for a moment.

“You mean runes? You want me to try to alter the water with runes? How am I supposed to do that? I’d need a base and something sharp enough to engrave it with. Plus, all this water is moving. I would need a still pool for that.”

“Tsk, all these excuses,” Thace shook his head reproachfully, “why don’t you look for ways to make it happen instead of ways to shoot the possibility down? Optimism, young keeper, will be your closest friend.”

Lance turned a sarcastic smirk to Keith, “hey, remember that the next time I almost die; tell me to be optimistic.”

Even Keith had to bite his lip against a grin.

“Enough talk, Lance, I expect you to find a way.”

“I didn’t realize that having you around meant that I had to become a personal bath attendant,” he muttered as he stood, a hand on the wall behind him to keep him steady.

As much as he whined about the request, he couldn’t deny the spark of excitement at the possibility of using the knowledge that he’d gained and finally seeing whether or not he truly could call upon his abilities.

“Does anyone have a knife-“

Before Lance had even finished speaking, Keith brandished a Highland dirk, flipping it around so that the blade’s black handle was pointed his way.

“That was convenient,” Lance mused as he took the outstretched weapon, losing a few seconds as he wondered exactly where Keith had pulled it from, “now I just need something to carve the symbol into.”

“Just use one of the stones from where the walls are dilapidated,” Allura suggested, pointing a narrow index finger over to where several knee-high walls were barely holding together on the other side of the path through the glen.

Carefully watching the uneven ground, Lance crossed over the path and began searching for a loose stone by the crumbling remains. After a few minutes of searching, he found a split stone that looked as though it had been struck by lightning, the inside where it had broken from its twin was black and jagged. Taking a seat on the cold ground, Lance crossed his legs and focused on the stone in hand, positioning the dirk in his other as he searched his memory banks for the proper symbol for the task. He was inexperienced, however, and it was difficult to know which one was the right one to use for such a specific task. As he perused the foreign symbols, he felt a sort of snap as he browsed over one in particular. Like a man possessed, his hand seemed to move of its own volition, forcing the sharp edge of the steel against the charred stone. He watched, entranced, as the lines began to come together over the blackened canvas to mimic the design held in his mind’s eye; _heat_.

Lance couldn’t help the grin when the etching was completed and he held the stone up so that he could appraise the craftsmanship. The lines weren’t perfect, his hand had started shaking when he’d had to bear down with the dirk, but it was close enough and certainly impressive for a first attempt. Standing, he whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes on the channel to his left. Stone and dirk in hand, he moved over to the bank and walked along it, scanning for any wayward pools. As he crossed behind the remains of the mill’s old waterwheel, nimbly leaping over the broken stone and avoiding a plunge into the icy waters, he spied a section of water that moved slower than the rest, moving out to the side of the channel in the shape of a crescent.

More excited than his weary body had any right to be, he crossed over to its edge and fell to his knees. With one hand clamped hard on the smooth edge, Lance dipped the carved stone into the chilly water. He kept his hand submerged as long as he could manage before the cold began to sting and his face fell as he pulled away. Why hadn’t it worked? Frustrated, he scanned the banks of information he held, trying to search for some sort of instruction. He knew, of course, that it wouldn’t be that easy but his failure left him feeling sapped and he wasn’t sure what else he could do to make it work. He thought about calling out to Thace but he doubted that the Cat Sith would be very forthcoming after having made it abundantly clear that he wanted him to figure it out himself.

Sighing, Lance began to hum to himself, his wet fingers tapping idly on the stone as he racked his brain to come up with a solution. He couldn’t make sense of why it hadn’t worked and the longer he tried to think about it, the more irritated he became. Deciding to try again, he thrust the stone into the water once more and though the water didn’t warm, he was surprised to see something changing. Beneath the clear surface of the water, his submerged hand had begun to glimmer. His fingernails lengthened and sharpened to points while portions of his skin shifted to resemble patches of indigo and emerald scales. Along the side of his thumb, a razored fin stretched down to his wrist in a translucent membrane.

Almost as compulsive as his etching, his humming continued and he reached his other hand into the water, watching with awe as it changed to match its twin. The humming grew louder and his empty hand brushed the surface of the stone beneath the water. As his fingers passed over the rune, it began to glow, pulsing as it gradually shifted through hues of red like the heating eye of a stove. Before his eyes, steam began to roll off the surface of the water and he rejoiced at the feel of warmth surrounding his frigid digits.

“YES!”

The yell was instinctive and it broke the rhythm of his humming, causing the changes to his flesh to abate though the water remained warm. He allowed the stone to drop to the bottom of the pool and he stayed in place for several minutes to make sure that it would remain warm before he got to his feet and sought the group.

“Was that a cry of achievement that I heard,” Thace asked with a smug smile when he returned to them.

“I did it! I’m not really sure how I did it, but I did it!”

The smile shifted and there was obvious pride in the curl of Thace’s lips as he nodded his approval, “excellent work Lance, I knew you could do it.”

“That’s awesome, Lance,” Keith added, an equally proud smile on his face as he took the dirk that he handed back to him, “good job.”

It was hard not to feel overwhelmed by pride as everyone congratulated him. It was an odd thing, to have such a moment after a harrowing escape from death only hours before, but it was a welcome respite from the doom and gloom that had surrounded them; sometimes a small gain was all that was needed to increase morale.

“Thanks, guys. Pidgeon, you and Allura should go bathe first. The pool is hidden by the back half of the mill so nobody can see you.”

“I don’t care if the whole world sees me naked as long as the water is warm,” Pidge snickered as Allura helped her stand, a slender arm protectively curled around the smaller fae’s waist, “and what did I tell you about ‘Pidgeon?’”

“You can fight me when you can stand on your own,” Lance winked, “you’ll see the steam when you get behind the mill; enjoy.”

As the two walked off towards their bath, Lance took a seat beside Keith. He lifted his hands up before his face, turning them this way and that.

“What are you doing, dude,” Hunk asked, “you look like a baby who just realized he has fingers.”

“When I tried to warm the water the first time, it didn’t work,” Lance answered, “I got frustrated and I started humming to calm myself down. When I tried the second time, my hands got sorta scaly and I had this weird fin-thing between my thumb and my wrist.”

“Hmm,” Thace mused thoughtfully, “maybe I was wrong; perhaps you did need your fae abilities in addition to your keeper skills to activate the rune.”

Lance turned his attention to Thace, “so, does that mean that I saw part of my fae form? After what happened at the first library, when we ended up back in Miami, Keith mentioned that I might change when I tap into my fae abilities.”

“He was correct; when you use your abilities, your body will shift as your fae blood dominates your human blood. It sounds like your form mimics your mother’s.”

Lance recalled when Thace had told him about his parents and how her skin would shimmer like scales in the water or the rain. A comforting warmth flooded his chest; that was one more thing that tied him to her, to them. He ruminated on those thoughts for a while until they were interrupted by the return of Katie and Allura, their skin pinkened by the hot water he had provided.

“Lance you are a gem,” Allura sighed happily as she and Pidge found their seats, “that was wonderful.”

“I’m just glad that it worked out,” he grinned, “did it stay warm?”

“It felt like a hot tub,” Pidge nodded, “it was fucking awesome, dude.”

“That’s high praise,” Matt laughed, “it really must be something.”

“Go find out! You and Shiro go next,” Lance smiled, inclining his head in the direction the women had just returned from, “you two could use a soak; relax your muscles after that hell-hike.”

Shiro chuckled, “you don’t need to tell me twice.”

“Hey,” Pidge spoke up, “give me your prosthetic Shiro, I need to look it over after you nearly cracked the damn thing in half.”

“Weren’t you the one who was supposed to make sure it could keep up with me,” he raised a brow as he fiddled with a release on the side of the metallic forearm, grimacing as it made an ear-piercing shriek when he pulled it from his residual limb.

“Well I wasn’t expecting you to go all ‘Hulk Smash!’ with it,” she rolled her eyes as she sat up, taking a hold of it and pulling it into her lap when he handed it to her, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Katie.”

With a guiding hand on the small of Matt’s back, Shiro led the pair of them back towards the pool.

“Hey.”

Lance turned his head to the right at the sound of Keith’s voice, “hmm?”

Keith’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, “seriously, good work. I know today has been hard on you but you really pulled through.”

Lance couldn’t feel the breeze that blew by over the spreading heat in his cheeks and chest.

“Thanks, it was nothing-“

“Hey, don’t say that. You’ve never done that before and you managed to pull it off faster than anybody expected, don’t undersell your accomplishments.”

“Be careful,” Lance joked awkwardly, trying to offset the warmth and speed of his heartbeat at Keith’s praise, “say things like that and I might get used to them.”

Keith laughed, low and intimate, and Lance felt a distinct buzz of attraction to the sound.

“A little praise here and there is good for you. You’ve been in danger since you stepped off the plane but you keep pulling these feats out of your fear.”

Keith looked him over for a moment after he spoke, a curl to the corner of his mouth, “you really are something.”

“Thanks,” Lance barely managed, clearing his throat.

Keith’s chuckle at his shift in attention said that he knew exactly how his words affected him.

When Shiro and Matt returned from the pool, Shiro gestured to Lance.

“You and Keith go have a soak, the water is great.”

While the thought of a relaxing dip in warmed waters nearly had him salivating, the thought of the dip alongside Keith had his throat going dry. No matter what they had faced earlier in the day, in the here and now his biggest threat was the attraction, the heavy pull, that he felt for Keith; it threatened to consume him when the pair was alone.

“Sounds good to me, c’mon Lance,” Keith said as he took hold of Lance’s forearm and pulled him to his feet, “lead the way.”

“Have fuuuuuuun,” Pidge called as Lance shakily made his way towards the back of the mill, blowing him a kiss when he turned to glare at her.

Trying to reign in his unsteady heartbeat, Lance lead the way to the crescent pool. The steam was still billowing from the top of the water and it looked so inviting.

“Wow, it does look like a hot tub without the bubbles,” Keith mused as he looked down at the water, “I hope it feels as good as it looks.”

Lance didn’t respond, not that he could have if he’d wanted to. When he looked up from the water, Keith had taken off his amplifier and his form had switched to his natural one as he began to strip out of his clothing. It wasn’t as though Lance hadn’t seen him bare before, hell, when he’d rescued him from drowning he’d been completely naked, but this just wasn’t the same. Seeing his body in motion as he shifted to rid himself of clothing was no comparison to seeing him as he had before, corded muscles flexing as he stepped out of his clothes. Though much of his muscled torso was bare, the thick black fur made a slight appearance below his navel, a thin trail dipping down to the apex of his thighs.

Lance turned his gaze away as he focused on peeling out of his own clothing, keeping his eyes to the ground as he stepped out of them and lowered himself into the heated water alongside Keith.

“That,” Lance sighed happily as he closed his eyes and rested his head on the bank, “is amazing.”

“It really is,” Keith agreed with a sigh of his own, “we needed this.”

“We did.”

The pair relaxed in the comforting water for several minutes before Keith broke the silence between them.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re going to have to specify, Keith.”

“How are you holding up? I know the last few days have been a disaster.”

Lance opened one eye to peer at Keith who was watching him closely, slit pupils direct and locked on him.

“I’m as good as can be expected, I guess. I’m tired and I don’t like having Hunk here in the middle of all of this when things just got even more dangerous.”

“You know we’re all here beside you, Lance. You’re not going through this alone and neither is Hunk. We’re all watching out for you two.”

Lance opened both eyes then as one of his major worries crept to the surface and off of his tongue before he could stop it.

“But no one is watching out for you.”

“No one needs to watch out for us. We’re capable of-“

“Don’t pull that dated spiel on me, Keith, seriously. Pidge and Matt could have been seriously screwed but they had no choice but to keep going because it would have meant that we would have died. Allura had to be knocked out just to keep her from being some witch’s puppet and Shiro’s arm is so fucked I’m worried it’s going to zap him every time it buzzes. Fae or not, you aren’t invincible, not anymore.”

“What can I say to stop you from worrying,” Keith asked.

“Nothing,” Lance admitted on a pathetic, half-hearted, chuckle, “You can’t stop me from worrying about you.”

“At least we’re even, then.”

“Don’t worry babysitter, I’ll be fine,” he joked.

“Not like that and you know it.”

Lance gulped, the water around him shifting as Keith moved closer to him.

“What happened to this being a bad idea,” Lance asked breathily when Keith raised a hand to cup his cheek, leaning into it despite knowing better.

“It’s probably still a bad idea, I just don’t give a damn anymore.”

Lance’s heart beat loudly in his ears as he watched Keith lean closer. His own eyelids fluttered closed seconds before Keith stole his lips. The weight of what they had escaped earlier in the day prompted him to let go of his reservations. Life could very well be too short to deny either of them the pleasures that they sought. Lance leaned into him, his hands gliding up the expanse of Keith’s bare chest, up his throat and around so that he could fist his hands in his mane, the silky black tresses soft between his digits as he pulled him closer. Keith growled low in his throat as Lance tugged on his hair and it sent a bolt of heat straight to his groin as Keith backed him up against the wall of the bank.

Lance nearly moaned as Keith easily broke the barrier of his lips, tilting his head back as he tasted him. Keith held him still, both hands moving to his throat while his thumbs propped up Lance’s jaw.

“Fuck,” Lance gasped as he pulled away for air, sucking in a few deep breaths to combat the lightheadedness.

Keith was looking at him with heavily lidded eyes that only stoked the fire building in his loins, his face only a few inches from his own. His lips were reddened and plump and Lance couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone as deeply, as completely, as he wanted Keith.

“This isn’t fair,” Lance murmured when Keith’s hands dipped below the surface of the water to rest on his hips, shivering at the pleasure of his touch.

“What isn’t,” Keith asked, voice low as his thumbs rubbed over his hipbones in lazy circles.

“You have me in the palm of your hand so easily…”

Keith laughed, an amused grin spreading over his features.

“Do you really not know how much you affect me?”

Without leaving time for Lance to answer, Keith released Lance’s hips and took a hold of his forearms, pulling his hands out of his mane. He slid his hands along the smooth flesh of his arms until he held his wrists. Maintaining eye contact, he forced Lance’s hands to his chest where his heartbeat sped wildly beneath their touch.

“You make me completely crazy, I’m just not as obvious as you are.”

“No fair, teasing me here.”

“No fair,” Keith mocked, “what isn’t fair is that I can’t get you out of my head and when I’m not worrying about whether or not you’re safe, I’m thinking about tasting you. _That’s_ what isn’t fair.”

Lance felt shivers skitter along his body despite the warmth of the water.

“Sounds fair to me,” he argued breathily, “that means that we’re on the same page.”

Lance didn’t give Keith room to say anything else, rather he reached for a taste of his own, slotting their lips together and teasing the seam of Keith’s lips with the tip of his tongue.

“I need you to stay safe,” Lance said softly after a moment before he pulled away, a hand on Keith’s chest.

Keith laid a hand over Lance’s, his eyes soft as his other hand rose to his cheek, “I can’t promise you anything, Lance. You’re my priority, you know that.”

“Promise me that you’ll at least try,” Lance asked, “I don’t know if I could do this without you.”

Keith pulled his hand from his chest and pressed his lips to Lance’s palm.

“I’ll try.”

Lance smiled, “thank you, Keith.”

“Mmmhmm. C’mon, we should probably get back before they send a search party.”

It was hard not to be disappointed when Keith released his hand and moved away from him but Lance covered it as best he could before the pair pulled themselves out of the water. They waited for a few moments, letting the cold breeze air dry them before they pulled on their clothes and joined the group once more.

 

 


	23. More than an Asset

Keith did his best to slow his heartbeat as he and Lance returned to their friends, which was no easy feat with the combination of his own recklessly bold actions in the water and the eye-crossingly sinful way that Lance’s jeans clung to his frame as he walked a few feet in front of him. He had meant it back in Miami when he’d said that he would do whatever he had to in order to get past the attraction between them and the kiss they’d shared that night but, as he’d heard the alarm in the manor and seen the creatures that had been sent to destroy them, he had realized something; though he’d come to terms with the possibility of his own death, he couldn’t handle the idea of Lance’s.

The moment that the siren had blared, he’d been frozen in place. He knew that when the alarm sounded, he was to immediately find the rest of the group and head for the foyer, he knew that. His first thought, however, had been impossibly loud and it had blocked everything else from his mind; _where is Lance and is he safe_? Every second that Lance was out of his line of sight he felt an unfamiliar fear well within him, the feeling so intense that it was hard to focus on anything else. He knew that it was unbecoming of him as his guardian and irresponsible of him as someone that he trusted, but Keith wasn’t going to let fear be the only thing either of them felt when death lurked around every corner and in the depths of every shadow.

As he’d walked alongside him during their escape, he’d seen the true scope of how much power was being sent for them. As selfish as he felt, he would take those moments when they were alone and he would cherish them. He would bank every kiss, every touch, every lingering look so that when the world grew bleak and dark around him, the cold would be no match for the warmth in his heart as his fire was extinguished.

“It’s all yours Thace, Coran,” he said as he lowered himself down against the wall at Lance’s side.

“About time, I’m chillier than a shaved yutsnickel,” Coran exclaimed as he picked himself up off the ground and excitedly made off for the direction of the pool with a softly chuckling Thace following in his wake.

“You guys took your sweet time,” Pidge noted, not looking up from where she’d fashioned a twig into a sort of screwdriver and was busy looking over the exposed innards of Shiro’s prosthetic arm.

“How often do you get a hot bath when you’re on the run from scouts?”

“Fair enough,” she snickered, though her little smirk didn’t go unnoticed.

“How are repairs looking, Katie,” Shiro asked as he scooted closer, craning his head as he watched her use a minute amount of energy to weld two broken wires back together, the metal gleaming green beneath the tip of her finger.

“I’m going to just let this thing shock the piss out of you if you don’t give me some space,” she mumbled testily, “this is some of my best work and it’s closer to scrap right now.”

“In all fairness, Katie,” Matt broke in, craning his head closer as well, “the wall started it.”

“I think it was the big ugly guys trying to tear down my house,” Shiro laughed, “but we can add that to the list.”

Pidge’s smirk reappeared as she ducked her head, trying to hide it as she pilfered through some shifting cords, “y’know, I learned today that I don’t suck at real Druid stuff so I’d pipe down unless you want to get slapped with any one of these exposed roots.”

Matt nodded his head thoughtfully and put on a mock serious expression as he laid a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, “this is serious business now. I don’t know that I could live through a root-slappin’.”

It was impossible not to laugh. In the wake of such danger, tensions and tempers had a habit of rising and as ludicrous as it seemed, Keith couldn’t help but grin a little at the spectacle that they made. Sinking into their fear would get them nowhere and the melodic laughter that Lance loosed at his side had him ever thankful for the antics of their groupmates.

While Pidge worked on Shiro’s prosthetic, Matt put himself to work forcing a thick blanket of moss over the area they were seated in. He was careful not to overexert himself after his close call earlier that morning and after the ground was covered in the spongey greenery, he stretched out and closed his eyes.

“At least it’s a little more comfortable. It’ll do for the night,” Matt said after a few minutes, shifting this way and that until he seemed content with his work.

 _Night_. Keith looked up at the darkening sky, estimating that, despite the grey surrounding them, they had maybe three hours left of daylight. As if Shiro had come to the same conclusion, his expression became stony and he turned his attention to Allura.

“Are you well enough?”

“I am,” She nodded, “should we set out when Thace and Coran return?”

“Yes. Once you meet up with your contacts, stay out of sight until morning; don’t come back until it’s light.”

A flicker of worry shot through her eyes and she frowned, “are you sure about that, Shiro? I don’t want to leave you all here any longer than absolutely necessary.”

“We’ll be fine and I want to make sure that you are as well. If you say that you can trust your contacts then stay with them. Though they sent scouts out during the daylight, I doubt they’ll be making that play twice in a row. Unseelie know that their power is dwindled just as much as ours and they can’t risk a war with humans when they’re so vulnerable,” he smirked a little but there was a sharp edge to it, “it’s the one time that their own pride is a mark in our favor.”

“Alright,” she said, though she still didn’t seem the least bit confident with leaving them to their own devices in the middle of the woods, “when Thace and Coran return, we’ll leave.”

“Are you sure that you’re going to be alright to make that walk,” Lance asked, open concern scrawled across his features as he leaned forward over to where Allura was tying her hair up.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him with a smile, “pus Coran and Thace will be there. Try not to worry.”

“Well, still, be careful out there.”

“We will be.”

When Thace and Coran returned from their soak and Hunk disappeared towards the pool of water, Allura got to her feet.

“I know that you two just started to relax but it’s time for us to head out.”

Thace didn’t seem disappointed with that in the least, “excellent, we don’t have time to waste.”

Coran, however, didn’t share his feelings though he didn’t speak on them aloud. His expression said all that there was to say.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Allura patted his damp arm, “but we need to move if we want to get there before it gets very dark.”

“Watch yourself out there,” Pidge spoke up, looking away from the metal in her lap as she looked over the trio, “you know what’s waiting.”

Allura’s smile softened and she flicked an unruly bang from Katie’s forehead, “focus on resting up and getting Shiro set up; we’ll be fine.”

Pidge looked like she wanted to say something else but she pursed her lips instead and looked back down at the prosthetic.

“Good luck guys,” Lance said as the three of them stretched a little before looking off towards the direction they needed to begin in.

“Keep them safe,” Keith added, his attention focused primarily on Thace who nodded under his intense scrutiny.

“I will.”

It still didn’t sit right with him after all that had befallen them, but Shiro had spoken and Keith trusted his judgement at the end of the day.

“Stay safe, we’ll see you soon,” Shiro raised his left hand in a farewell as they turned and began walking.

“Safe, right,” Coran muttered bitterly to himself as he followed Thace and Allura, keeping a watchful eye on her back as the group stepped beyond the crumbling walls and out of view of the rest of them.

Keith was silent, waiting until he could no longer hear their footsteps before he spoke.

“Okay Shiro, tell me why you sent Thace with them after knowing that he could have been the one to lead those things to us in the first place?”

Shiro didn’t seem put off by the question, in fact, the speed in which he answered it left Keith wondering if he’d been expecting it from the get-go.

“Thace is an important part of this group now whether we like it or not, however, if he does have his hand in any Unseelie business then it should surprise Allura’s contacts to see them arrive with him in tow. Their reaction to his appearance will be enough to let Allura and Coran know whether or not his appearance, and the appearance of those dullahans, was purposeful.”

Keith raised his brows and for a moment he could only look at Shiro.

“You didn’t send him as muscle, you sent him for confirmation.”

Shiro flashed that steely smirk, “Allura and Coran can take care of themselves. If nothing out of the ordinary happens when those fae see Thace then I’ll feel better.”

“Sneaky,” Keith grinned, “I like it.”

“I’m more than a pretty face,” Shiro snickered.

Keith leaned his head back against the cold stone and looked up at the sky, absently watching the clouds shifting overhead. He wondered how far they could truly get on their own. He listened to the sounds of the glen and thought about what it would be like to have the doorway opened again. What would happen when Lance had finished his task?

“Hey,” Hunk’s voice broke through his thoughts, “I know we’re all busy being happy about not being dead and all, but I don’t suppose any of you guys could like snap your fingers and get a fire or something going?”

The young man shivered as he pushed his damp hair back from his face and took his seat, wrapping his arms around himself as best he could.

“Sorry Hunk,” Shiro shook his head, “but we can’t risk starting a fire.”

“But we’re in the middle of the woods, plenty of miles away from your place. Surely you don’t think they’ll know where we are.”

“Let me give you a little info on the big uglies that took a whack at us earlier,” Keith turned his head so that he was looking at Hunk where he sat against a tree trunk across the distance of what used to have been the main room of the mill, “they might not have had their heads when they attacked us at the manor, but that’s because they didn’t need them; they already knew where we were. A dullahan can lift its severed head and see long distances. It doesn’t matter how far we managed to get, being on foot means that we aren’t far enough that our smoke trail wouldn’t be visible through the eyes of a dullahan. And smoke from the middle of the woods would be a pretty good place to start looking for us.”

“I’m going to wind up as a popsicle in the middle of nowhere,” Hunk huffed at the same time that his stomach rumbled and then he corrected himself, “an empty, _starving_ , popsicle in the middle of nowhere.”

“I have to agree,” Katie added, a hand traveling to her stomach, “I didn’t eat anything before that damn air raid siren got me out of bed.”

Almost as if in solidarity, Keith felt his stomach give a little gurgle of its own.

“We can’t hunt out here if we can’t use fire,” Shiro sighed, “so unless you want to go foraging for berries and mushrooms, we’ll just have to tough it out until tomorrow.”

“I can go see what I can find,” Keith offered, “sit and relax isn’t exactly my thing, anyway.”

No one seemed surprised by that.

“I’ll go with you,” Lance volunteered, “If I don’t eat something I might die.”

“Drama queen,” Keith rolled his eyes but the little hiccup in his pulse at the thought of more time spent with Lance was painfully obvious to him.

“Be careful and watch your step then. You don’t want to end up in a bramble patch,” Matt advised as the pair stood.

“C’mon, I think I saw some Penny Buns on the way down here,” Keith said, pointing towards the way that they’d come initially, up where the path curved, and we can search from there.

“I’m not really sure what’s edible and what isn’t here,” Lance murmured thoughtfully, eyes scanning the ground as they moved over the path and dry leaves crunched under their feet, “and I don’t know what the hell a ‘penny bun’ is, so you’ll have to show me.”

“Sure thing, just make sure you look where you walk.”

They moved through the trees, eyes on the ground as they searched for any berry-laden bushes or edible fungi. He tried to force his mind on the task at hand but it was hard to focus when he had to reach out and take a hold of Lance’s sleeve every few steps so he didn’t stumble.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“What the _fuck_ is that?”

Keith stopped moving and followed Lance’s line of sight before he grinned, “that, Lance, is food.”

“No, Keith,” Lance curled his lip in disgust as Keith nudged him towards the item in question, “ _that_ is _gross_.”

‘ _That_ ’ happened to be a hefty clump of fungi known as ‘wood cauliflower,’ it’s oddly ribbon-like folds colored an ivory that stood out against the dark base of the thick clump of pines. Looking something like a cross between a batch of egg noodles and a cartoonist’s version of a brain, the leafy, frilly, lobes spread around the group of trees in a large, sprawling, mass.

“Do you like mushrooms?”

Lance eyed him, “I mean, yeah…”

“Then you’ll like this.”

Keith’s companion looked appalled at the mere suggestion and the outright disgust on his face had Keith trying to hold back a laugh; he was ridiculous.

“Sorry, buddy, I don’t think so.”

“Are you hungry or aren’t you?”

“I’m starving but that doesn’t mean I plan on pigging out on whatever the hell that is.”

“You need to eat, Lance.”

“I’ll eat a pinecone before I eat that.”

“Well, as luck would have it, I think I see a pinecone.”

“Keith,” Lance groaned, “why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you and I really don’t want to see you pass out because you don’t have the energy to move if we have to start walking again. You told me to take care of myself but how can I do that when I’m worrying about you?”

Keith knew he was playing dirty but he also knew by the almost childlike pout on Lance’s face that he’d won.

“You really do hate me,” Lance sighed, “fine, I’ll eat it. If it kills me though, I want you to know that I’m gonna come back to haunt your ass.”

“You really are dramatic.”

“You like me, so shut up.”

Keith chuckled as he dropped to a squat in front of the mass of fungi. The scent of pine wafted up from it as he reached down and tore a piece off the top, shaking it and wiping it on his shirt to discard any pine needles or small insects. After looking it over, he tore it once more so that he held two pieces, one of which he held out to Lance just before popping the other into his mouth. The deep, buttery, flavor lingered over his tongue and he sighed happily at the taste.

“I promise it won’t kill you, drama queen, just try it.”

Though Lance gave the shredded offering a look one might give a cockroach, he slowly reached out and took it before closing it eyes and following Keith’s example. It was difficult not to be smug when he finished the piece with a thoughtful expression.

“I guess that isn’t too bad… I mean, as far as creepy forest plants go,” he admitted sheepishly with a reluctant tilt of his lips that was entirely too endearing.

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Smug-ass.”

“Smart-ass.”

Keith rolled his eyes but he felt at ease there, picking edibles with Lance at his side and sharing his knowledge.

“How are we going to carry this back,” Lance asked when they started cutting the fungi at ground level, shearing off large clumps.

Keith thought for a moment before he easily pulled his shirt over his head.

“Problem solved.”

As he began placing the bunches onto the center of his shirt, he noticed Lance staring at him from his periphery.

“Are you going to stare or help me?”

“Can I do both?”

“Just help me, idiot.”

Between what they could carry with Keith’s shirt and what would fit in Lance’s arms, the pair managed to return to the mill and wash their haul in the river before presenting it to the group.

“Ah yes,” Pidge snickered as she bit into a large chunk of the delivered goods, “dirt food, my favorite.”

“Better than actual dirt,” Matt grinned as he followed her lead, “or anything that Coran might have tried to get us to eat; I love the guy but last time we were on a trip he tried to make me eat a beetle. Thanks for hooking us up, you guys, and for not trying to make me eat bugs.”

“No biggie,” Lance shrugged, but Keith could see the pleasure in his smile, “and don’t worry dude, I promise that I won’t ever try to make you eat bugs.”

They meant something to him, Keith thought as he watched them interact and snacked on their haul, Lance cared for them as more than his guardians; they were friends to him. He pulled his knees up and rested his forearms on top of them, smiling to himself as Lance laughed about how Hunk was chowing that ‘tree gunk’ like his life depended on it. When he smiled, the rest of them smiled, and when he laughed, they shared in it with him. It was more than Lance thinking of them as friends; they thought of _Lance_ as a friend.

In the beginning, all he had been was an asset, the last link to their home and reallocation of their immortal life, but at some point along the way his presence had become more. He could light up a room with a kind word and made an otherwise lonesome day feel like a gift. Lance gave Pidge another reason to smile and he gave Matt a friend who never lost interest in his interests. He gave Allura someone to indulge in the softer things with and he gave Shiro hope. Keith lowered his eyes. Lance had given him hope as well, hope and something more. He was hesitant to name it, the emotion that he felt clogging his throat as he truly thought about it, but Lance had given him that as well.

From the moment that Lance had joined them, all he had done was give. He gave his word that he would help them, he gave up the life he’d had, he gave up his fear, and so far all that he’d gotten in return was a few near-death experiences and the hot-and-cold attention of a Cat Sith who was just realizing how completely stupid-crazy he was over him. Keith raised his eyes back to Lance who was nibbling at the edge of a cluster of wood-cauliflower. When Lance noticed that he was being watched, he looked over at Keith and beamed. The nameless emotion in his chest swelled at the sight of that pretty smile aimed his way and Keith let his head fall to his arms; he was a goner.

Night fell quickly after the two of them had returned from foraging and they were all thankful for the bright light of a full moon as the darkness descended. After their small meal, most of them were laid out on their backs amidst the moss blanket that Matt had sewn over the ground with Pidge being the only exception as she finished work on Shiro’s arm.

“Hey, Keith?”

“What’s up Shiro?”

“I’m going to take the first watch but I’d like you to keep an eye on the perimeter.”

Keith’s muscles tensed reflexively at the request but he forced his body to relax. He remembered what Thace had told him about transformations and he took a few deep breaths before he answered.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Lance, who had been quiet and still where he lay nearly a foot from his side, reached over to lay his hand lightly on his left forearm as he sat up. Despite the fact he was still disguised, Keith retained his ability to see in the darkness, though he didn’t need it to know that Lance was aware of exactly what Shiro had asked of him; there was concern etched across his features in the pale moonlight.

“Are you sure that you’re okay with that,” Lance asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

Touched, he laid his hand over Lance’s and gave it a squeeze.

“It’s to keep you safe,” he said simply.

Keith gently extracted himself from his touch and took a breath, walking quietly around to the other side of the wall so that he was well hidden. Shivering as the wind ripped past, he quickly disrobed and pulled off his amplifier, sitting it in in the center of his clothes. Taking a deep breath, he forced a measure of energy through his body and clenched his teeth against the pain as his body fell forwards. A series of excruciating snaps and cracks echoed around in his mind as his body broke and reformed. The pain nearly scorched his mind but the transformation happened so quickly that it was over almost as soon as it had begun.

He stayed in place for a moment, tongue lolling out from between sharpened canines as he panted, trying to catch his breath; though it didn’t take much energy to remain in his feline form, the amount that it required to force the change was enormous. The wind tasted different as he surveyed their surroundings and the world sounded so much louder. His ears twitched as the sounds of nocturnal prey animals drifted to him over the sound of the bubbling water and there was an instinct to seek them that he had to repress. Padding over to his bundle of discarded clothing, Keith kicked out a paw and rolled the bundle so that he could pick it up in his mouth without fearing that his ring would fall.

After making sure that the bundle was secure, he quietly crossed back behind the wall and padded over to where Lance was laying with his body facing him. After making sure that he’d caught his sight so that he wouldn’t frighten him, Keith dropped the bundle at his side.

“Keep my ring safe,” he requested, the sound deep and gravelly even to his own ears.

Lance sat up and unrolled the bundle, fumbling around in the clothing before he found the ring. He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed at the sight of Keith’s feline form even though he’d faced death both times he had seen it.

“I will,” Lance promised quietly, slipping the band over his left index finger, “don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll see you later.”

Just as he turned to begin his patrol, Lance called out to him, “Keith?”

When Keith turned back, Lance had gotten to his knees and was reaching out for him, placing a hand on either side of his face. His fingers slid through his fur and the unfamiliar feeling had Keith’s tail twitching.

“Be careful,” Lance murmured, his thumbs stroking the fur beneath his eyes.

Keith closed his eyes for a few seconds, reveling in the feel of his touch, before opening them and taking a step forward, pulling his chin towards his chest and pressing his forehead softly to Lance’s. Keith savored the connection for a moment before turning his face slightly to the side and nuzzling his cheek.

“Get some sleep, Lance.”

He stayed put until Lance released him and curled up on the moss, using Keith’s clothes as a pillow. Keith smiled as much as he could in his feline form before he turned and sprinted off, the mental image of Lance and the reminder of his touch concreted in his mind as he began his patrol.

 

 

 

 


	24. Contacts

“Aye, you alright, lass?”

Allura blinked, shaking her head briefly before turning an apologetic smile to the to the man behind the bar, “yes, I’m sorry, it’s just been a very long day.”

At some point as the man had spoken, she’d found herself drifting off.

The plump older gentlemen looked her over with a concerned frown, “if you’re sure. Anyhow, like I was sayin’, there’s a phone over near the back that you can use.”

He pointed a weathered finger back towards the back alley exit to the pub and Allura noticed the phone on the wall.

“Thank you so much,” she bowed her head slightly before pushing off from the bar and heading in the direction he’d pointed.

The patrons all ceased their conversation and activities as she passed, their expressions ranging from “where are her parents” to “what a poor girl, she must be down on her luck.” She couldn’t really blame them when she looked like a teenager who had just run away from home without packing a proper outfit. In her grungy, dirt caked, grey and pink flannel pajamas and aqua, bunny-rabbit print, socks, she hardly looked like she was in any state to be out on her own after dark. She spared a glance over her shoulder, making sure that she could still see the shadows outside the stained-glass windows where she knew Thace and Coran were waiting for her.

The trio had walked along the path out of the glen and, instead of taking the road towards Edinburgh, Allura had talked the men into following her to Roslin where she would be more comfortable having her contacts pick them up. At first, both Thace and Coran had met her suggestion with open distaste, neither man wanting to be in a public place when they were still in danger, but they had given in when she’d expressed that it would be faster if she could get to a phone and give them her location. She didn’t care for the idea of endangering the townspeople any more than they did, but the faster that they could find a way to Perth, the faster the danger would diminish.

Maneuvering through the maze of chairs to the back of the pub, she made her way to the phone. She frowned at the sight of a shake in her hand as she reached up to take the receiver off the hook, closing her eyes and taking a moment to steel herself before she dialed. It was picked up after the second ring.

“Hello?”

The lilting tenor that sounded on the other end had her mind flashing back to pristine white halls and the echo of her father’s laughter. With a gulp, she steadied herself.

“Vicar.”

“Princess Allura? Is that you?”

“It is. I find myself in need of assistance. Can you help me?”

“Where are you, my lady?”

“Roslin. Some friends and I will be waiting near the entrance to town.”

“I’ll send for you immediately.”

Allura hung up the phone and felt a small quiver rattle her shoulders. Ever since she’d been a child in her father’s court, the sound of that man’s voice had always sent a shiver down her spine. There was something there in the tenor, something sickeningly sweet and overly phony that had rubbed her wrong; she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was, but just hearing him speak left her feeling sick. She remembered the look in his eyes when he’d spoken to her, those unsettling eyes intense upon her filled with something that she couldn’t decipher. Rubbing her hands over her arms, she politely thanked the man behind the bar for letting her use his phone before she slipped through the heavy oak door and out into the night.

“How’d it go,” Coran asked when she walked over to where he and Thace were leaned against the wall at the side of the pub.

“I told Vicar to pick us up near the entrance to town. I didn’t want to risk staying here any longer than necessary so let’s move.”

Both men pushed off from their places and fell into stride beside her.

“Tell me of this ‘Vicar,’” Thace requested as they walked, “I feel as though I’ve heard that name before.”

“Vicar l’Tirus,” Coran practically growled, as he kicked a stone from his path, “was King Alfor’s High Constable which granted himself the role of judge, jury, and executioner after the King’s death. When the war began, he made it clear that he served his own interests and began supporting the Unseelie alongside Alfor’s Seneschal, Tirgue, and half of the lower constable council.”

“I wasn’t aware that so much of King Alfor’s court sided against his interests,” Thace hummed thoughtfully as they continued.

“They were afraid of fighting Unseelie without a King,” Allura said, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice, “they didn’t want to face judgement at Zarkon’s hands and were content to join him instead of standing for what was right.”

“Fairweather supporters,” Thace nodded, “they’re present in every skirmish.”

“Cowards,” Coran shouted, his mustache practically bristling, “they deserved to face judgement.”

“Calm down Coran,” Allura patted his shoulder sympathetically, “we can’t linger on that now; we have matters far more important to focus on.”

Even as she said it, she too was thinking back to the beginning of the war. Her father had only been lost to her for a week before the rumors began to spread that members of the King’s own court were turning to aid the Unseelie in the capture of halfling children. Of course, she hadn’t believed a word of it; how could the men, hand chosen by her father, betray the ideals that they had sworn to uphold? She had gone to see Vicar, to seek out the mouthpiece behind the rumors, and she had found herself standing in the doorway of his office in shock. Sitting at his desk in the study where he had once advised her father, Vicar l’Tirus had been entertaining a group of Unseelie while he stroked his hand fondly over a piece of scorched flesh; flesh bearing a keeper’s brand.

She recalled the way that he looked over at her, amusement glittering in bronze irises as he smiled. A shiver broke over her skin and she rubbed her hands over her arms once more. She had ordered his guests away and demanded to know his motives, sickened by the trophy of flesh that he never stopped caressing.

“Alfor is dead and we cannot lead with weakness.”

“There is no ‘we,’” she had shouted, “you turn to aid the monsters killing our kin!”

“They are no kin of ours, they are a taint to our blood. The brutes have the right of it, my lady; we must put an end to your father’s pet project.”

“You pledged your life to my house and yet you wish to harm our halflings? Knowing that my life is tied to theirs?”

His eyes had held no trace of warmth when he had reached out to her, fingertip grazing her cheek, “the greatest deeds are built on sacrifice. There may be a way to separate your lifeforce from theirs, and I will have it sought, but I make no promise, my lady. If you die alongside them, then it is a fate your father forced upon you, not I.”

Allura clenched her teeth as she walked alongside Coran and Thace, the memory burned into her mind. She did not fear for her own life, she had come to terms with her position long ago, but the thought of such callousness from the man sworn to protect her made her feel ill. What would her father have done? What would he have said if he could have seen what had become of his countrymen, his cabinet?

Thace looked back at her and donned a comforting smile, “fear not, we’re not going to let them harm you.”

“I’m not worried about them trying to hurt me, they would never outright do so,” she rolled her eyes, “they’re cowards; I imagine that Vicar was only so prompt to answer my distress because he wants to know how I’m still alive.”

“I have questions about that myself, if you don’t mind my asking,” Thace paused momentarily, slowing his pace so that he could match Allura’s.

“You mean questions such as why I’m not dead when Lance is the first keeper we’ve been able to save thus far?”

“Yes.”

“Have you been in contact with any of the other keepers, Thace? Before Lance?”

Allura noticed the tensing in his jaw as he glued his eyes to the road before them.

“No. I never made it to them before they were killed.”

She knew what he felt when he spoke as the same pang of bitterness and sorrow sparked within her chest as well.

“We were not able to make it to them in time either. Somehow, the Unseelie always managed to get to them before we could. I have continued living beyond their deaths by routinely imbibing energy from elsewhere.”

“Life energy, you mean,” Thace’s brows raised high as he contemplated her words, “how is that possible?”

“I share my lifeforce with her,” Coran answered before Allura could, as idly as if he were talking with a passerby about the weather.

“But with the already weakening state of fae, can you afford to do so?”

Coran straightened his shoulders and his eyes, normally crinkled with mirth, were eerily somber.

“I pledged my life to the protection of Alfor and his family. As far as I’m concerned, it belongs just as much to her as it does to me.”

Swallowing the lump of welling emotion clogging her throat, Allura rubbed a hand over Coran’s shoulder.

“He has gone above and beyond to keep me alive even as our halflings perished. Thankfully, it hasn’t been necessary for many years since you saved young Lance. So, thank you Thace,” she said, turning her smile to the Cat Sith and hoping it conveyed just how much gratitude she felt, “for saving our lives as well as his.”

Thace’s expression softened as he looked between the two of them.

“It’s my honor,” he said simply.

The trio walked onward in the darkness, out of town on the single road leading in, and the sign for Roslin had just come into view when Allura caught sight of a large, black, SUV moving steadily towards them.

“You think that’s them,” Thace asked as the three of them paused in place, standing with their shoulders tense.

Coran narrowed his eyes as the vehicle closed in on them, “aye, it’s them.”

Allura wondered if, like her, Coran could feel the bubbling of discontent in the pit of his stomach grow at the sight of the SUV. Despite the darkly tinted windows keeping the drivers from view, there was no disputing that it was their ride; there was an aura about it that set one’s skin to prickling. Squinting against the SUV’s high-beams, Allura allowed Coran to pull her back from the road as the vehicle slowed and edged off the side of the road, stopping a few feet from where they waited. She held her breath as the driver-side door opened and released in a long, thankful, sigh when the driver revealed himself.

“Lady Allura,” the stranger greeted with a bow, “we’re here to take you to Lord Vicar.”

It was a relief to see someone other than Vicar. The man before her was clearly Unseelie, his flesh a distinctly mottled purple. He didn’t look like the kind of man one would expect to play the role of driver, his midsection bared beneath a sleeveless grey vest that was only buttoned at the top of his chest. Beneath the last button, Allura thought she spied a glint of metal. There was a sardonic tilt to his lips and the crinkle at the edge of his flat, grey, eyes told her that this wasn’t his normal role.

“Of course the cur couldn’t come himself, I shouldn’t be surprised that he’d send an Unseelie henchman” Coran muttered under his breath as the man gestured towards the vehicle and opened the back door.

“We should consider that a good thing,” Allura said quietly before quickly donning a false smile and following the man, gracefully lifting herself up into the seat before he closed the door for her.

Thace and Coran were, unsurprisingly, mostly ignored as they walked around to the other side and let themselves into the SUV. As they climbed inside, a woman in the front passenger seat turned as far as her seatbelt allowed to survey them. Her long blond hair fell over her frail shoulders and deep amethyst iris’ glittered in the interior lighting of the vehicle as the woman looked them over. She squinted beneath the light and every so often Allura could see the woman’s skin seize around the corners of her eyes.

“My Lady,” she acknowledged with a brief dip of her head, clearly biting back a smirk at her state of dress, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you for your quick response,” Allura responded, pursing her lips as she folder her hands in her lap, “we appreciate it.”

“Lord Vicar would have accepted nothing less,” the man spoke as he let himself back into the driver’s seat, eyes drifting up to the rearview to catch her gaze after he ran a large hand through his white locks, “you know how he is.”

Allura ignored the bait, instead moving the topic away from Vicar, “well, I appreciate it nonetheless, so thank you… I didn’t get your names.”

“I’m Rolo,” the Unseelie at the wheel introduced himself before inclining his head towards the woman at his right, “and this is Nyma.”

Due to the uneven coloration patterns of his skin, Allura guessed that Rolo was a mutt, his blood so diluted that even he likely didn’t know what branch of fae he was born of. Nyma, on the other hand, was much easier to read. As beautiful as she was, with flawless skin and an almost angelic face, Allura could easily see the shimmer over her skin when the interior lighting in the vehicle cut off. As the SUV pulled back onto the road, the headlights of a passing car washed over Nyma’s skin, the pale flesh shriveling in a few places for a mere second before it had reverted; a Korrigan.

The rest of the ride was silent as Rolo drove them back towards Edinburgh, the discomfort in Allura’s gut building with each mile they crossed, the memory of the mental assault in the manor still vivid in the back of her mind. When they crossed back into the city, they were driven to New Town, the 18th century Georgian buildings crowding the streets with impressive architecture and stately stature bathed in the yellow light of nearby streetlamps. _Just as pretentious as he is_ , Allura thought bitterly as Rolo pulled up to the curb in front of a large flat.

“Watch your step,” Rolo cautioned as he held out a hand to Allura, smiling a little to himself when she ignored it and easily hopped down from her seat, “he’s waiting for you inside.”

“Have a nice evening, My Lady,” Nyma chimed in, a laugh hidden in the tone of her voice as Allura made her way to the door and waited for Thace and Coran to join her.

The thick, black, door to the flat loomed before them and it was only after she’d generated every ounce of will she could command that she placed her hand on the doorknob and let them inside. The ivory walls were enhanced with accents of cherry and gold as they passed through the foyer and, if the situation had been different, she might have been tempted to peruse the home. As it was, however, all she wanted to do was leave. Before they made it to the end of the short hallway, that sickening tenor called out to her.

“Allura, it’s good to see you safe.”

Raising her eyes to the top of the staircase before them, Allura’s frame stiffened as she met the bronze gaze of Vicar l’Tirus. Slowly, deliberately, he descended the stairs, eyes never leaving her figure. As she remembered him, he was clad in a black on black suit with artfully tousled black hair, his fae features prominently and openly displayed in a show of pride.

“Coran, it’s been a long time,” Vicar greeted as he neared, smiling as if he couldn’t sense the purely murderous glare that he was receiving from Allura’s left.

Coran’s jaw twitched and she knew how hard it was for him to hold back the spew of hatred he felt towards the man before them; she felt it as well.

“And who is this,” Vicar tilted his head, looking over where Thace stood at Allura’s right.

“Don’t concern yourself with my guards,” Allura finally spoke, thankful that her anger outweighed her fear and that there was no quiver in her voice, “I’ve come to seek your assistance; will you help me or not?”

“Of course, I’ll help however I can, My Lady; what can I do for you?”

“I just need a vehicle, preferably like the one you shuttled us here in.”

Vicar leaned against the railing of the staircase, “that’s an awful large vehicle for the three of you. Why won’t a smaller vehicle work?”

Allura lifted her chin, feeling the alarm bells sounding throughout her body, “I don’t believe you have the right to question me.”

“We could argue about the rights of a Princess with an empty title until we were blue in the face,” Vicar grinned, “but that wouldn’t get either of us anywhere, would it?”

“Vicar-“

“You claimed to be in need of assistance, but needing a car is hardly something I’d ever assumed you would contact me over. Given our rocky relationship, your reasoning must be quite incredible. I will give you full use of one of my vehicles but you have to answer something for me.”

“What is that?”

The alarm bells became wailing sirens as Vicar pushed off from the banister and approached her, his six-foot-six frame imposing as he towered above her. Lifting a hand, he took a firm grasp of her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face so that she couldn’t look away from him. The mocking smile that he’d worn fell away in an instant and all that was left was a stoic, serious, expression as he stared down at her.

“Who are you running from?”

 

 

 

 

 


	25. Losses

Allura’s entire body went rigid at the clammy touch of Vicar’s hand and she could practically feel the murderous aura radiating off of Coran from where he stood at her side. Thace, in similar fashion, was tense and his eyes never left the pair of them.

“My title, however little it seems to matter to you, is still valid and, as such, demands your obedience. Supply my needs and I will leave, then we can finally be free of one another.”

She forced her speech to be even and measured though within she felt a tremble.

“Oh,” he smiled a jackal’s smile, all teeth and malice, “but why would I want to be free of you when we still have so much to talk about, Allura.”

“Mind your over-familiarity,” Coran hissed from between clenched teeth, his face reddening as his words were met with a laugh.

“And I suggest you mind your place, steward; we’re not in Elphame anymore and Alfor isn’t here to baby you.”

Before Coran could even think of formulating a retort, the fingers tightly gripping Allura’s chin shifted. Like the color swimming about in his eyes, Vicar’s fingers, from the knuckle down to the fingertips, glimmered for a split second before they turned to solid bronze. The cold metal burned her skin as he held tighter yet, leaning close as he spoke.

“I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me your side of it, Princess, before I tire of your bullheadedness.”

“I want to get out of Edinburgh, that’s all,” she lied, knowing the instant that the words left her lips that he didn’t buy them, not with that self-assured smile growing ever wider.

“Shame your father’s skill at deception doesn’t seem to run in the blood,” he commented, “but never mind that. As I’m sure you know, there are precious few things that could send a fae, especially high-fae such as yourself, running like a frightened rabbit. I’m also sure that you know that a manor outside the city was ransacked early this morning; Unseelie you know, very messy. I don’t know if I’ve told you, but you look radiant. For someone who should, by all rights, be dead, you’re practically glowing. Tell me, how is it that you’re still breathing when your father’s little pets are dead?”

It took everything she had to keep herself from vomiting as her stomach churned with each word; he knew and he still intended to toy with her. His grip on her chin abruptly released but her relief was short-lived as his hand dropped to curl lightly around her throat. Allura’s heart stopped in her chest as his hand shifted to bronze up to the wrist and tightened around her throat, just enough to let her know that he was in complete control. Slowly, Vicar bent his head down until his mouth was at her ear, warm breath rolling over her and souring her stomach as the fine hairs along her skin rose.

“Tell me Allura.”

“Tell you what,” she asked quietly.

“Tell me where the keeper is.”

“The keepers are dead, you helped see to that yourself, did you not?”

“Now, now, my empty little Princess, we’ve already established that you’re a terrible liar. Where are you keeping the boy?”

“I don’t have any boy, and even if I did, I would never tell you, you snake,” she growled, narrowing her eyes even as the hand around her throat tightened threateningly.

“Oh, really? Well then,” he laughed as she gasped beneath his hand, mouth still aside her ear, “I suppose we’ll just have to have Zarkon make sure of it, won’t we?”

“Your Unseelie lord means nothing to me,” Allura stated proudly after sucking in a breath, jerking her head away, “ _nothing._ ”

“We’ll see. Since you won’t answer the questions of your host truthfully, I’m afraid I can’t let you leave just yet. Besides, it’s already dark and what kind of creature would I be if I sent you three out into the cold all by your lonesome?”

Vicar l’Tirus stood assured before them, tilting his head the smallest bit as he surveyed them. He allowed his hand to return to flesh and he dropped it from Allura’s throat.

“I trust you realize the situation you’ve willingly put yourself in? You will not be allowed to leave this place, not until you tell me what you know about the keep-“

Before Vicar could finish speaking, Coran reached out to take a hold of his forearm. His teeth were bared in a snarl and his eyes were alight with fury. A mixture of disgust and surprise shot across Vicar’s face a split second before the air around him wavered and he was sucked into a growing blackness behind his body. It closed in on itself after swallowing and Coran nearly hit his knees, saved from falling by Allura as she took a hold of him.

“My apologies, Princess, but this was a terrible plan. We need to get out of here,” he coughed, gritting his teeth as he fought to hold his weight, “we cannot deal with the likes of him.”

It still took her by surprise, sometimes, when she got to witness just how quick Coran was.

“Here,” Thace offered, coming around to Coran’s side to help prop him up with his body, “let’s move. How long can you keep him like that, Coran?”

“Five minutes, maybe,” he grumbled as he tried to suck in a deep breath, “it takes a great deal to open space.”

“It was the best move, strategically,” Thace praised, patting his side as he wrapped a stabilizing arm around him, taking his weight from the princess, “Allura, we must go.”

She nodded, “yes. Thank you, Coran.”

“Don’t thank me yet Princess,” Coran chuckled, though the strained sound weighed on her heart.

Running along ahead of them, Allura crossed the short distance to the front door and threw it open only to find herself a few feet from a small wall made of Rolo and Nyma, shoulder to shoulder. It happened so quickly that she barely had the time to blink. Her body jolted a little as her toe caught in a crack in the walk and she wavered, her body teetering to the side. Just as she caught herself, she found herself frozen; she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even _breathe_. There was a crackling sound in the air that sent frigid waves of fear through her limbs a split second before a familiar beam of pulsating, purple, light, shot an inch past her left ear. There was a gasp as it made contact behind her.

“Nice job idiot,” Nyma chastised Rolo as he dropped his shoulders, the vest he’d had buttoned earlier left open to expose the ring of metal embedded in his chest, “she said she wanted the _girl_ , not the old man.”

“You try getting a cannon between your tits and see how good your aim is,” Rolo snarked back to her as though it were the most natural exchange in the world before focusing his attention on Allura.

As much as she knew she had to see it, she was terrified to look behind her. With shaking hands, she turned her head to look over her shoulder and a half-choked sob tore past her lips. Thace’s arm was still secure around Coran’s waist, but he was gritting his teeth as he tried to hold him upright. Thin wisps of smoke wafted up from the singed flesh beneath Coran’s left eye that had taken the full force of Rolo’s blast. His mouth hung open and his body was completely limp in Thace’s grasp, bending backward from the force of the blow until his head lolled.

The rest of the world faded away around her as she stared at him, the man who had sat at her side, and her father’s side, ever since she could remember. He was as much a father to her as Alfor had been, he’d seen her through nearly all of her life and without him she would surely have died years ago as the keepers had been executed. He had gone beyond his vow to keep her family safe, he had gone beyond his role when he’d watched Alfor die and saved his daughter; he’d gone beyond his role when she possessed more of his lifeforce than he did. Coran was the closest thing to family that she had left…

And he would _ **not**_ be harmed.

Thace looked up at her and opened his mouth to speak but it was too late. A ragged, wounded, warrior’s yell burst through her throat, echoing through the darkness, and she whipped her head back around, rage flowing like fire through her veins, demanding retribution; demanding blood.

“You,” Allura growled in a low voice as she tilted her head, zeroing in on where Rolo stood, “you will not take him. **_You will not take me_**!”

Rolo grinned and within the deep, hollow, hole in his chest, came that sound once again. Light began to flicker in the depths of the chasm and Allura focused all of her energy as she locked her gaze to his. His brows drew together as he realized his mistake in looking back at her. His pupils dilated until they eclipsed the entirety of his eyes and she smiled even though she couldn’t really see it; her own vision was no longer connected to her eyes. Instead of seeing those horrid creatures before her, all Allura could see was the maze of channels in Rolo’s mind as she forced her way through his consciousness. Every second she spent within him weakened her but she couldn’t find the will to care, or maybe she just couldn’t, not with what she had seen them do to Coran.  

“Get out!”

She heard Rolo’s voice echo around her and she felt her lips curl, a foreign, sadistic, pleasure taking root at the edge of fear hidden in the angry roar. Allura didn’t respond, though he kept chanting the words like a mantra, as though it would save him from her. She dug through his mind and began setting up walls, blocking up his head like a condemned home and focusing on his body systems. Like a woman possessed she moved through his various levels of consciousness, sealing away the happiest, most joyful, parts of his memory that she found find as she wove her way through his brain; he had made Coran suffer and so then he too must suffer. It took a few mere seconds, though it felt like a lifetime when inside another’s head, to creep beyond his consciousness and into the faculties of his mind.

She couldn’t force his actions, not with the little power she had left in a world disconnected from her own, but she could make him unable to function by shutting down the areas of his mind from his motor cortex all the way to his pituitary gland. If he were human, she would have killed him on the spot, but as it was she could only freeze him in place until what little fae ability he had rewired his body from the inside out. There was pleasure, however, in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to retrieve the memories she’d stolen even after he’d healed from her invasion; it was her victory, no matter how small. She was putting up a finishing touch when a rough jerk brought her violently out of her concentration and, subsequently, Rolo’s head.

“Do you want to get yourself killed,” Thace barked at her, ramming his shoulder into her upper arm to force her out of the way as Nyma came at her with what looked like an electrified nightstick, “don’t be stupid!”

She barely managed to keep herself upright as she slammed into a light pole by the walkway, fingertips digging into the metal to keep from falling as her knees wobbled precariously beneath her weight. Her vision wove in and out like a staticky television station and her breathing was labored; she’d spent too much time and energy with Rolo.

“You,” Nyma shouted, her eyes wild as she looked from where Rolo stood deathly still, his eyes solid black, to her, “what did you do to him?!”

Though her body ached from the combined expulsion of energy and push, Allura used the pole to straighten and face the sound of Nyma’s enraged voice.

“Take him and run before I make you match,” Allura growled even as she wobbled in place, “I can do far worse to you. Give me the keys and go before I take another dive inside his empty head.”

Allura couldn’t see any longer, her vision fading completely black as she held to the light-pole. She could hear the sound of shuffling and the metallic clink of an item hitting the sidewalk near her feet.

“She’ll take care of you,” Nyma hissed, “she’ll kill all of you and I’ll be there to watch. She’ll turn you into puppets and make you grovel at his feet, you highborn bitch.”

“Where do you think you two are going, Nyma?”

Vicar’s voice rang through the night and nausea moved in waves throughout Allura’s gut. She sucked in several breaths, her chest suddenly feeling tight. There was nothing left in her to use against him and, even if there was, she couldn’t see. Her body stiffened when a hand took hold of her arm and there was the scraping of metal nearby.

“Wh-“

She couldn’t even manage to utter a single word before she felt herself being lifted into someone’s arms.

“And you, Allura,” Vicar called, “aren’t you two forgetting something? If you leave now, I’ll have to claim him as a consolation prize, and you know how easily I break things…”

With her body breaking out into a cold sweat, Allura dug her nails into Thace’s shoulder and squirmed, putting her all into attempting to break free of his hold, “put me down! Did you leave Coran? We can’t leave him!”

No matter how much she struggled, however, it did not loosen.

“We can’t go back,” Thace answered, moving, “we have to get out while we have the chance.”

“I will not leave him, you hear me?! I will not leave him!”

“You don’t have a choice in the matter,” he told her before she was met with the sound of an opening door and she fell from his arms into the vehicle.

The door slammed closed and she immediately tried to sit up, vertigo and aches melding inside her head as she tried, desperately, to feel her way to the latch of the car door. Before she could manage to pull it, however, Thace had already let himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine, peeling away from the curb before he’d even shut his door. Despair, cold and lonesome, settled in the pit of Allura’s heart as tears welled in her eyes and trekked over her cheeks. She fisted her hand and slammed it down against the door, a broken wail leaking past her lips as she bowed her head.

“No!”

She held the emotion at bay as long as she could before, finally, she could no longer fight it.

“How could you leave him,” she sobbed, curling in on herself in the seat, lids closing over unseeing eyes as she wrapped her arms around her knees, “how could you?”

“Allura-“

“He’s my family! He’s given his life to keep me alive and I left him there to die!”

“Stop being a child.”

Allura paused at the sudden harsh tone in Thace’s voice and lifted her wet face from her knees, turning towards the sound of his voice. He sighed and cleared his throat, his voice softer when he spoke again.

“If Coran was willing to give his life to save yours, what do you think he would say about the idea of you charging back in there after him, hmm? Do you think he’d want you to risk your life when he’s done so much to keep it safe? You’re right, he is your family and as your family, and your guardian, it is his duty to make sure that you come before him. Besides, Vicar isn’t going to kill him. Think about it, what do you think is going to happen?”

She didn’t want to think about it, but she knew what he was driving at.

“He has too much information for them to kill him,” she said, sighing heavily as she wiped a new trail of tears from her cheek, “so they’ll likely send for Zarkon’s witch. They’ll try to get him to give up what he knows.”

“I know that’s not what you want to hear,” Thace sighed in agreement, “but as long as he has information, he’s alive. The longer he can hold out, the better our chances of getting him back.”

“You’re planning to go back for him?”

Allura knit her brows as her question was met with silence for several long minutes. When Thace spoke again, it was with a voice undoubtedly haunted by ghosts of a past she could only imagine.

“I don’t leave people behind to die, Allura. If it is possible to get Coran back, then I’ll get him back; you have my word.”

Amidst the grief she felt, his words sparked a small cloud of relief.

“Thank you, Thace; for everything.”

“There is no need,” he said simply, “I told you that I was here to help and I meant it. Now, please rest, you spent far too much energy. We’ll meet up with the others soon and then, when we finally get to Perth, we should be safe.”

“For a group who throws that word around, we are rarely ever safe,” she commented softly before tucking back into a ball once more.

The rest of the ride continued in silence as both of them thought on the events that had transpired and the possibilities that yet awaited them.

 

* * *

 

 

Vicar kept his eyes on his SUV as it sped away, a small, amused, smirk present on his lips as it continued out of his line of sight. Nyma twitched at his feet, the residual electricity from the nightstick he’d struck her with causing her body to convulse.

“Next time you fail me, I’ll have the witch turn you inside out so you can watch how the electricity affects your muscles,” he told her as he deftly stepped over her, completely ignoring the frozen Rolo to her left.

He dropped into a squat beside where the princess’ keeper had been haphazardly placed, his chest barely rising. The skin beneath his eye had been burnt black and appeared to have sunken in where the blast had broken the cheekbone beneath.

“Well,” Vicar hummed thoughtfully as he looked over Coran, “I might not have the Princess, but her pride won’t allow her to forget you here. Besides, I’m sure the witch will enjoy having a new toy.”

He got back to his feet and pulled his phone from his pocket, firing off a quick message to one of the Unseelie lord’s vassals. Again, he stared off in the direction that Allura had gone.

“Run as far as you want, little rabbit; there’s nowhere left to hide.”

 

 

 


	26. The Promise of Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ### Be sure to check the schedule!! Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy! Be good! Much love <3

Dry leaves crunched and broke beneath the heavy weight of Keith’s paws as he made his third lap around the perimeter, the only sound that gave away his presence as he surveyed the night. His patrol had been uneventful, which was a relief. With a heavy spring, he propelled his muscular body upwards, landing atop a large boulder where he could get a better view of his territory. The cold wind whipped past his ears and he lifted his muzzle against it, reveling in the unfamiliar pleasure, and self-proclaimed taboo, of his feline form. Every transformation that Keith had completed in the past had been shadowed by the fear of what it meant to change and what would happen when he hit his limit, but now that he knew he could continue to shift, he could allow himself the opportunity to appreciate the advantages the form allowed him.

From his vantage point, he could see the walls of the old powder mill and the steam still rolling off of the water Lance had left his rune in. The trails leading in and out of the area were also within his scope of vision upon his perch, which allowed him the ability to sit and watch for intruders. He wrapped his tail around his paws as he situated himself and settled in for a long night as a sentry. He had only been seated for a short time when he caught the sound of heavy footsteps near the entrance to their campsite, beating in rapid succession as they neared.

Keith pushed off from his perch and flew across the glen, ducking behind the crumbled walls sheltering his comrades. Though the others were curled up in the thick moss, sleeping as best they could, Shiro straightened from where he sat posted against the wall when he caught sight of him.

“Someone’s coming in from the east and coming fast.”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed.

“How many?”

“Just one,” Keith answered.

“Have you caught a scent?”

“Not with this wind,” he shook his head, “do you want me to meet them at the pass?”

Shiro nodded, “but stay out of sight.”

Keith inclined his head. As he turned away, he caught sight of Lance curled up with his clothing, his ring gleaming on his finger in the faint light of the moon. Keith turned towards the intruder with renewed vigor, bounding over the chunks of stone and old debris as he moved quietly over the trail, backing his thick body into a hollowed knoll surrounded by thick pine trunks that overlooked the passage up to the mill. The sound grew louder to his sensitive ears and his eyes were glued to the path, his body taut and coiled as the intruder pushed forward to reveal himself in the moonlight. Keith’s body relaxed little by little at the sight and he watched him for a moment before he slid out of his hiding place and blocked the path into camp.

“What are you doing here so soon? It’s still dark. Where’s Allura and Coran?”

Thace didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see Keith but he took his time answering his questions, leaning forward a little to put a hand on his knee and catch his breath. He looked far more haggard than he had when he’d left, his normally coiffed hair wild and as disheveled as his clothing. There were several dark places on his exposed forearm that looked, and smelled, like burns, and there was an urgency in his eyes that set Keith’s nerves humming.

“We have to leave now,” Thace breathed, “we were attacked by their contacts and we don’t have time to waste. Allura is resting in the vehicle.”

“And Coran?”

Nausea settled heavily in Keith’s stomach at the silence that followed before Thace carefully chose his words.

“I’ll explain when we get everyone moving. We don’t have the time, Keith.”

As much as he wanted to force him to answer his questions, Keith bowed his head and lead the way back to the others with Thace following quickly in his steps.

“Keith, what’s going on,” Shiro asked as he rounded the wall, pausing when he noticed Thace behind him, “Thace?”

Instantly Shiro was on his feet.

“What happened? Why are you here?”

The group began to stir as Shiro’s voice grew from a mere murmur to a flat question.

“We have to leave now,” Thace informed him, “Allura’s contacts had no intention of letting us go. They knew about the raid and were planning on handing us over to Zarkon.”

“How did you escape?”

“We don’t have time for an explanation here. We have a vehicle waiting at the entrance to the glen. I’ll explain everything when we get moving but we have to move, now.”

“Where’s Allura,” Pidge asked as she sat up, rubbing the back of her hand across her weary eyes.

“And Coran,” Matt added with a yawn at Shiro’s side.

“Resting in the car. We don’t have time for this, we have to move.”

Shiro grimaced at his words but seemed to grasp the urgency of the situation.

“Everyone, wake up, we have to leave.”

Keith padded over to where Lance was and nudged his cheek with his nose, “wake up Lance.”

“Keith?”

His words were thick with recent sleep and the warm tone in which he delivered his name had Keith’s skin prickling.

“We have to go now, get up.”

Lance blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, looking around to see that everyone was getting to their feet.

“What happened?”

“We don’t know yet, but we have to go.”

“Okay.”

Lance didn’t question him and got to his feet, reaching down to grab the bundle of Keith’s clothes before making sure his ring was still on his finger.

“Do you want these back now?”

Before Keith could answer, Thace spoke, “it would be best if you stayed like that Keith, so you can keep an ear to the ground in case we were followed.”

“Hold on to them for me,” Keith told him before turning his attention to Thace, “I’ll run the path back to the road to check for tails.”

“Stay safe,” Thace nodded to him, “and stick to the shadows.”

Lance watched as Keith looked back at him once more before he set off, his dark body blending into the night as he sped through the dips in the earth and over the crumbling remains of the mill yard. The urgency in Thace’s tone had him clutching Keith’s clothing to his chest and hoping that he wasn’t met by trouble along the path.

“Are you alright, Thace?”

There was a rigidity to the elder Cat Sith’s stance, a forced tightness in his muscles as he stood against one of the mill walls. He let out a small chuckle, though it was devoid of any humor and rubbed a hand along his left forearm, as though he were comforting himself.

“As alright as I can be,” he answered before looking behind Lance, “are you all ready?”

“Yes, let’s go,” Shiro answered for the group as he approached with Matt, Pidge, and Hunk behind him.

Hunk stayed near the back alongside Lance as they picked their way through the dark walkways, nearly stumbling after every few steps.

“What happened, Thace?”

Everyone was silent as Shiro spoke and the only sound around them was the whistle of the wind through the leaves as Thace chose his words.

“Allura wanted to go into town after we parted from you. She thought it would be better to call ahead and have them send a car than for us to walk and potentially draw attention from any scouts that might be lurking about. Her contact, Vicar, had us brought to his home where he told us, in no uncertain words, that he knew who we were and why we were fleeing. He wanted to trade a vehicle for information about Lance. They’re aware that we’re harboring a male keeper and Vicar made it very clear that he works in conjunction with Zarkon and his men. He threatened Allura and Coran had him put away in a pocket of space, giving us enough time to leave-”

Thace’s voice trailed off for a moment before he began again.

“-Coran was injured in a blast meant for Allura. She was beside herself with grief and overexerted herself against one of the perpetrators. With Coran unconscious, Vicar escaped his attempt at trapping him, so I put Allura in the car and drove straight here to keep her from his grasp.”

His voice broke a little when he continued but he squared his shoulders all the same.

“I had to choose between the two of them and I chose her.”

Lance felt his stomach churn and he paused mid-step, staying still for a few seconds before forcing himself to continue forward. They had lost one of their own.

“You made the right call,” Shiro told him after he mulled over the words, “thank you for protecting her, I’m sure you did all that you could.”

Pidge and Matt didn’t stop moving at the news, but Lance noticed that they held to one another tightly, their arms linked as they let their heads fall forward. Hunk nearly lost his balance and Lance helped him stay upright, his heart twisting at the mumbled, “are we already dying,” that left Hunk’s lips. Lance pictured Coran then, with a confident smile beneath that silly orange mustache. He thought of how he never complained and always sought to lend a hand and keep them all safe. He thought of his devotion to Allura and how terrible it must have been for her to have been forced to leave him behind. Every day the reality of their situation grew bleaker.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, emerging from the path nearly ten minutes later to see Keith sitting beside the back tire of a black SUV.

“It’s been quiet here,” Keith reported, padding forward to meet them.

“Excellent, thank you Keith,” Shiro nodded, turning then to address the rest of them, “everyone pile in.”

Lance held out the clothing he still held to Keith, “don’t you want to change?”

Keith shook his head, “no time, just open the hatch for me; no opposable thumbs.”

Lance smiled a little to himself before tucking the bundle under his arm and popping the hatch open in the back of the SUV. Keith lifted up to put his paws on the edge before deftly hopping into the area. Lance looked over the back of the closest seat, noticing that Allura was spread out, sound asleep, on the bench with pidge sliding into the vacant space beside her. Hunk and Matt had taken the captain’s chairs in the middle and Shiro was in the passenger seat next to Thace. After knowing what she’d been through, Lance had no desire to wake the princess and instead climbed into the back next to Keith before pulling down the hatch.

The ride was silent for the first ten minutes as the group took the time to think over what had happened and what was to happen next. When conversation floated through the vehicle, it was done softly in respect of Allura who was sleeping with her head in Katie’s lap. Lance sighed deeply, letting his head bow forward as he stared blankly at his hands. Misfortune was hitting them so quickly that they barely had time to recover, how were they supposed to be able to figure out how to open the gate when every step along the way only hampered their progress?

“Stop.”

Lance looked over to his right where Keith was watching him, vibrant yellow eyes locked onto his gaze.

“You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep worrying. I know it’s hard,” he grumbled deeply, “but put it away for now. Get some rest.”

“Dunno if you’ve noticed,” Lance lifted a brow and gestured to the small space they were in, “but I don’t think resting is going to happen back here.”

If it was possible, Lance was sure that Keith rolled his eyes in response.

“Lay on your side and put your back against the seat behind you,” Keith commanded.

Too tired to question him, Lance did as he bid and pressed his back firmly against the back of row of seats, increasing the room in the back. Keith moved from his seated position, taking a half step to his left before laying down himself, his back to Lance as he stretched his legs and then tucked them close to his body. He craned his head back to look at Lance.

“Now get comfortable,” he told him, “you can use me for warmth if you’re cold.”

Though he might have hesitated any other time, Lance _was_ tired and cold. He’d only gotten snippets of sleep in the ruins of the mill and his body was achy from the walking they’d done to get away from the manor. Tentatively, he edged his body a little closer, slowly sliding his right arm over Keith’s side. The soft fur was warm against his skin and he couldn’t help but obey the urge to snuggle closer and bury his face in his throat. Keith didn’t say a word, though he did lift his head, rubbing his soft, furred, cheek against Lance’s before letting it fall back against the floorboard as he closed his eyes.

Though the position was a little awkward for him at first, after several minutes laying close to Keith’s warmth, Lance found his eyelids feeling heavy. The steady vibration of the SUV and the soothing beat of Keith’s heart soon lulled him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

When Lance woke up, it was to the SUV slowing to a stop. At some point during his short slumber, he had thrown his leg over Keith’s body, and they were impossibly close. He was aware of conversation going on behind him and, from the sound of it, Allura had woken as well.

“-I just need someone to guide me until I can rebuild my energy.”

“I’ll do it,” Pidge spoke up immediately after Allura finished, “don’t even worry about it.”

“Thank you, Katie.”

“It’s nothing.”

Lance felt relieved at the sound of her voice; she was okay. Keith took that moment to slide out from under Lance’s limbs, allowing him space to sit up.

“Thanks,” Lance murmured quietly, feeling his cheeks color at the thought of how easily he’d allowed himself to latch onto him.

Keith didn’t respond, his attention forward over the seats where Thace had turned to face them from the driver’s seat.

“Everyone,” he began, looking around at the group, “we’re going to have to hike up to the sanctuary. We shouldn’t have to worry about being seen since no one comes out at night. The path can get pretty steep so watch your footing and keep an eye on each other. The hike normally takes around half an hour but since it’s dark, I expect a little longer. Shiro, when we get out you’ll need to rip the tag off the vehicle. I have no doubt that it’s been reported stolen.”

No one had anything to say as they all exited the SUV, the aura permeating the atmosphere one of both desperation and hope; they needed to feel safe again. Thace came around the back to open the hatch for Lance and Keith while Shiro busied himself with disposing of the license plate.

“Are you going to shift or wait,” he asked, appraising him.

“Wait,” Keith answered before he jumped down to the asphalt, “if I change now, the loss of energy will slow me down and make it harder to take the incline. Besides, I can look out for the group.”

Thace nodded, “that sounds like a good plan. Watch over Lance.”

“I always do.”

“Everyone follow Thace,” Shiro ordered as they began to walk.

“Stay as hidden as possible until we get to the trail,” Thace advised, “once we get there we won’t have anything to worry about regarding passersby.”

Lance and Keith stayed towards the back of the group behind where Pidge was guiding Allura forward.

“Are you alright, Allura,” Lance asked quietly as they walked from the car park, noticing that it was a full dependence that she had on Pidge as they moved.

“I’m fine, Lance,” she answered just as quietly, “my vision is failing me after using too much energy. I’ll be fine once I can rest.”

Though he’d heard time and time again how important it was for them to conserve their energy, it was different to see the effects of over-usage. She held firmly to Pidge’s hand and Pidge was telling her exactly how and where to step. More than ever Lance realized just how important their connection to their homeland was, and how hard it had to be for them. They walked through the parking area and up to a gravel walkway to the left of a post, half illuminated by moonlight, that read “Kinnoull Hill.”

Following Thace, the group began up the walkway that wound up through a dark forest of golden beech and pine trees, the sounds of insects and rabbits the only disturbance of the night aside from their footsteps along the crunching gravel. As the slope steepened they found themselves slowed, both by the depth of the darkness and Allura’s lack of sight. The tree line thinned as they steadily progressed upwards, allowing them a picturesque view as they reached the summit. The river Tay wound through the hilly earth like a black snake, edging towards the highland mountains that surrounded and protected the area below them on one side. On their other, Perth glittered like a rustic gem beneath them and Lance was struck at once by how beautiful, how ethereal, this foreign land was.

Squinting at the area some ways ahead of them, Lance could just barely make out the outline of Kinnoull Castle, another crumbling ruin of a time long past. The group was halted when Thace stopped at the side of what appeared to be a cylindrical stone table with a cobbled base.

“Lance, come here.”

Curious, Lance carefully stepped over to the table.

“Put your hand in the center and recall the symbol for entry.”

Obeying, Lance laid his palm atop the smooth, cold, stone and closed his eyes, searching through the archive of his mind.

“When you find it, I want you to trace it over the table with your index finger three times and then repeat this phrase.”

Lance listened intently as Thace spoke a line of Elder Fae several times, repeating it until he could form the words with his own tongue. His finger began to draw the symbol he’d found over the stone as the words left his lips, his eyes still closed as he concentrated on both the foreign words and the symbol beneath his finger. As he finished reciting, he jerked his hand away from the stone, yelping at the pain that suddenly stabbed into his palm.

“What the hell?!”

Thace chuckled, “sorry, but there’s a reason you had to be the one to do it. Only a keeper can open the way, and each entry costs a test of flesh.”

“Could have warned me,” Lance grumbled sourly as he lifted his hand and turned his palm inwards, noting the cutout in his palm that matched his birthmark and the blood dribbling down his fingers.

“Fae are hardcore,” Hunk muttered from nearby as he watched Lance wipe the blood away with his shirt.

“Don’t even get me started,” he replied.”

“If you’re done whining,” Thace remarked, “the way has been opened.”

Lance squinted once more, trying to focus his vision in the darkness, and noticed that the path towards the folly no longer existed. Instead, it had shifted, moving towards the rocky crags and creating a shelf that led down the side of the cliff face.

“Oh, hell no,” Hunk shook his head, looking at the disturbingly narrow ledges, “this is not how I’m going to die.”

“Why, do you prefer torn apart and skewered by monsters wearing people suits,” Lance asked, “because that’s your other option.”

“If I make it out of this alive, I’m never leaving Miami again.”

“Just focus on your feet, buddy,” Lance said, patting his back as Hunk followed Shiro and Thace towards the new path, “and you too, Pidge.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, tightening her grip on Allura’s hand as she led the way down, “I’ve got her.”

“Funny how the clumsy one is giving advice,” Keith mused from behind Lance, earning a quick glare from over his shoulder.

The powers that had once maintained the ledges and shelving down the face of the cliff had long since diminished, leaving crumbling rock and dirt in their wake. As they inched their way down the path, every member of the group held their breath and tried not to look down that the rocky outcroppings that waited silently below them. Several times during the venture, Allura had stumbled, held in place by a frighteningly pale Pidge whose fear was evident on her face with each misstep their princess made, but there was no shortage of relieved sighs when they made it to the end of the path and Thace led them through a shimmering illusion of rock and into a hollowed-out area.

“What now,” Matt asked from where he was leaned against the stone.

Thace pointed to a small stone disc embedded in the smoothed wall in front of them, “now Lance has to let us inside.”

“Am I going to lose another chunk of skin,” he asked as Keith nudged him forward, reluctantly putting his hand on the disc.

“No,” Thace shook his head, “just repeat here what you did at the table”

Lance closed his eyes once again, recalling the symbol and tracing it over the dusty stone as he pushed the Elder Fae from his tongue. As he finished, a faint white light shone beneath his palm before the disc was sucked through the stone, leaving a perfectly cylindrical hole in its wake. Before anyone could speak, the stone around them began to vibrate and break in straight lines North and South of the indention. In layers, the stone peeled open in layers, revealing a dark corridor into the heart of the cliff.

Thace smiled, though it was only a small quirk of his lips, as he gestured to the abyss behind them.

“Welcome to Kinnoull Hall.”

 


	27. Everything

Lance peered into the darkness beyond the newly opened doorway with no small amount of skepticism, continuing to squint at the nothingness for a minute before blinking.

“It’s pitch black in there,” he muttered, “are we going to use Shiro as a nightlight again?”

“I did revamp the illumination properties of his prosthetic after that whole ‘travelling underground’ thing that we had going on,” Pidge piped up from where she was leaning against the wall next to Allura, some of the color, thankfully, back in her cheeks.

Shiro joined Lance and Thace at the entrance to the Hall, eyeing the inky blackness, “I don’t know how much help I’ll be but we definitely won’t have it easy.”

“Well c’mon then, human torch,” Matt smacked Shiro on the back, “lead the way.”

Shiro pursed his lips but there was a distinctively soft quirk there that wasn’t lost on Lance. Their leader fiddled with his prosthetic for several seconds before it emitted a bright light from the area around the wrist connection, allowing him to aim like a flashlight.

“Neat,” Lance laughed through the overwhelming fatigue that he felt, “now we have a Swiss-Army Shiro. I don’t suppose you fitted him with a pen knife and a bottle opener too, Pidgeon?”

She smiled a little but it faded quickly as she helped Allura to stand, wrapping an arm around her waist so that she could guide her up away from the wall and to the darkened entryway.

“We’ll only need the light for a short time,” Thace explained after the group gathered together and took their first steps inside the hallway, “Lance, the pedestal.”

With obvious trepidation, Lance slowly put his hand on the pedestal just inside the hall, it’s surface barely visible. Once more, a light shone beneath his hand as it seemed to read the marking on his palm through the thick layers of dust and grime that accumulated on its top. With a terrifying lurch, the doors that had opened to allow them entrance began to close until they were left submerged in darkness, the ground beneath them shaking with the intensity of the slamming doors. After the way in was closed behind them, they began to move forward through the dark hall.

“Everything looks the same,” Hunk mused as he looked around, squinting to see ahead of them through the light of Shiro’s prosthetic, “and how long is this hallway?”

Lance had noticed the monotony of the cold, solid silver, walls as well, their immaculately chiseled surfaces reaching up to peak in a perfect arch above them. There were no offshoots or changes in the path they walked and they were surrounded by an eerie silence to accompany the unnerving blackness.

“As it is now, if it’s anything like the ones I’ve visited in the past, probably at least three miles.”

“Excuse me,” Pidge choked on her spit, “did you say _three fuckin’ miles_?”

Lance could hear the understanding in Thace’s voice as he responded, “I did; however, it won’t be that long for us. Shiro, do you have any energy to spare?”

“That depends on how much you need,” their flashlight said, looking over his shoulder, “why?”

“This Hall was originally maintained by both keeper and guardian power. The reason that this place is so useful as a stronghold is because in its entirety it spans twelve miles below ground. We should be coming up on a crystal overhead, keep an eye out for it. When we see it, we’ll need someone to imbue it with energy. Once that’s done, the halls will shrink in on themselves and we’ll have full roam of the sanctuary without having to hike from one place to another.

“Will we also have light? I’m not a bat,” Hunk asked as they continued further, “and why would these keepers, or whatever, want that much room? Why make it so hard to get around?”

Lance thought about it for a moment, his eyes on Thace’s back as he spoke hesitantly, “if the halls shrink and lengthen at will, then the keepers could get around easily when they needed to, but it would be harder for an intruder to get to them, I think.”

Thace nodded and gave Lance a tired smile over his shoulder, barely visible though it was, “you’re exactly right. These sanctuaries were set in the shape of a five-fold knot with each of the four main chambers branching off into sleeping quarters for the keepers. The guardians slept in rooms in the center of the structure, a last line of defense so that the keepers had time to exit through the various passageways spread throughout the hall. Because there’s so much space, everyone could spread out quickly, making it nearly impossible to take the entire populace.”

There was pride in Thace’s voice at Lance’s response and Lance couldn’t help but puff out his chest a little.

“Well if that’s the case, then why is this place abandoned?”

Everyone looked back at Hunk who was watching them curiously.

“This was the last sanctuary built,” Thace picked his words carefully, “and it wasn’t occupied at the time of the initial attacks. There was so much chaos that the keepers and guardians fled to their closest sanctuaries, most of them cut down before they set foot within half a mile of them. Zarkon may not know of all their locations, but he knew where the keepers were clustering and that was as good a clue as any. They aren’t impenetrable, but they’re as close as we’ll get.”

Lance felt chills raise the fine hairs along his arms at the memory of what Shiro had told him as they’d been leaving for the first library, about the carnage and the bodies, about how Zarkon had displayed them for the world to see. He was pulled out of his thoughts when something brushed his hand and he jerked back before he realized that it was only Keith, who had moved up to his side and nudged his fingers with his nose.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he whispered, “you just shaved ten years off my life!”

“Sorry,” Keith said in a voice that sounded distinctively like it was hiding a laugh and was decidedly not sorry, “but your brain was moving so fast I could practically hear it. Relax a little.”

“How am I supposed to do that after today,” Lance mumbled quietly, punctuating with a sigh.

He nearly stumbled when he felt Keith nudge his hand with his nose again, though he’d quickened his step a little so that Lance’s hand was resting directly between his ears. Glancing down at him, Lance lightly rubbed his thumb over his fur. Keith didn’t look up, his gaze directly ahead as he kept his pace even with Lance’s, completely undisturbed by his soft petting. As they continued, the repetitive, mindless, motions seemed to calm his mind and he made a mental note to add it to the list of things to thank him for.  After another few minutes, the light from Shiro’s arm caught something overhead. There was a glint above them before the light caught on a secondary object that was lower and embedded into the wall on their right side.

“Is that…” Pidge squinted and got a little closer, edging closer to the wall, “is that a crystal decanter?”

“If it is, I hope it’s full of whiskey because I’m beat,” Hunk sighed.

“Not that kind of decanter,” Pidge shook her head, “it’s what we call Fae power cells. It’s made of a special kind of crystal grown in Elphame and we call it a decanter because it holds stored power and makes it look like the crystal is full of liquid.”

“It can recycle the power given to it for short periods of time before it has to be refilled,” Allura added from Katie’s side.

“Handy,” Hunk said thoughtfully, “so what happens if we refill it?”

“Power will be circulated through the other decanters through the structure, as long as they’re still in working order,” Shiro answered, turning arm towards the item.

The crystal shimmered, the light dancing through its empty center to cast radiant rays on the walls of the hallway. The shape of a pyramid, one entire corner was buried in the side of the wall while the rest stuck out at an angle. Where the top should have met in a point, it was flattened instead, with several curved slits inserted into the palm-sized disc. The group watched with bated breath as Shiro put his hand forward, his palm resting atop the pinnacle of the decanter. His eyes closed momentarily and when he opened them, several streams of silver light seemed to be pulled from his palm to swirl in a loose ball within the center of the crystal decanter. When he pulled his hand away, his left knee buckled and he was caught by Matt who was standing protectively at his side.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Shiro assured him, though it was too pained to be anything but worrisome, “might have given a little more than I meant to-“

Before he could finish, there was a sharp trill from within the decanter and a beam of blinding white light shot through up to the decanter embedded in the ceiling which, in turn, projected the beam directly through the darkness of the hallway and straight ahead.

“Much better,” Thace said as the hall lightened and they could see one another clearly again, “Lance, concentrate on shortening the path and put your hand on the wall. We had to wait to reach this point before we could safely shrink the tunnel.”

Lance gulped and Keith ducked his head so that his hand fell from between his ears. Slowly, he reached up and flattened his hand against the cold stone. Like Shiro, he closed his eyes. He didn’t know how he was supposed to make any difference when his only ability had been in the form of carved runes, but he did as he was told and imagined the hall around them pulling in on itself. There was another trill though this time he couldn’t tell where it originated and, after several seconds, he was hit with a wave of dizziness as the tunnel moved. There was a rush of stale air, like they were standing in a wind tunnel, and then a series of tremors rocked the ground beneath their feet. The group was almost blinded when the tremors stopped and the stream of air subsided, the beam of light from the decanter above them founding another. The hallway before them opened into a wide area bathed in crisp, white, light and just like that, they found themselves standing in center of a mess hall circa 1810.

The area was circular, the walls curved in a wide crescent until they hit a flat wall with two sets of decorative double doors, plated with a curiously vibrant green glass that covered a nouveau style wrought iron pattern within. To their left, there were several black cast iron flaps in the wall that appeared to be the opening to, what Lance assumed, were some _seriously_ ancient stoves. Left of those were several deep, rustic, sinks and an entire wall of countertop that was covered with bottles of various liquids that he couldn’t help but fear after knowing they’d been locked up underground for over one hundred years. The path forward to the door was lined by long tables on either side that seemed to match the color and material of the walls, glittering silver in the bright light of the several decanters lit up overhead.

“If there’s any food left in this place, I _promise you_ it’ll kill us,” Pidge grumbled at the same time her stomach decided to make a statement, “which is _just awesome_.”

“I don’t even care about food,” Allura shrugged half-heartedly, unseeing eyes on the floor, “I just want to find a bed.”

“Seconded,” Matt yawned, “plus the big guy over here is going to fall out anytime now.”

“Hey, I’m not an invalid,” Shiro protested though there was a tired sort of acceptance to his objection.

“We’ll take care of food once everyone has a room,” Thace said, looking around at the myriad of tired faces and no doubt feeling the weight of his own exhaustion, “this way.”

He led them forward through one set of the double doors and into another hallway. This hallway was large and circular, wide enough to fit six or seven cars end to end. From where he stood, Lance could see two more twin sets of double doors, one to the right and one to the left, on the outside walls. On the inner wall there were two visible doors, spaced far apart.

“The area we just left is one of the four outer rings of the five-knot fold. The area here, in the middle will lead to the other three main areas. The doors in front of you are the bedrooms of the guardians, put near the entrance as a last line of defense against any would-be intruders. If it’s amenable, Shiro, I’d like to have Lance, Hunk, and Allura in the keepers’ quarters since they’re the most vulnerable. The rest of us will stay in these quarters.”

“Allura can’t be alone right now,” Katie shook her head immediately, her grip on Allura’s waist tightening as her eyes narrowed on Thace, daring him to contradict her.

“Lance doesn’t go anywhere without me,” Keith added from Lance’s side, sitting regally to his right.

“Of course,” Thace agreed, the bags under his eyes more apparent in the brilliance of the hallway lights, “Keith, you two go through the first door to your right and then head through the next doorway; it’ll take you to the keepers’ quarters. Katie, you and Allura go to the right. Hunk, you’re free to accompany anyone you choose or take the second set of doors and have the entire area to yourself.”

Lance wasn’t the least bit surprised when Hunk immediately edged towards him.

“Come on, Lance,” Keith said, lifting his body and beginning a leisurely saunter towards the set of doors to their left.”

Lance followed, moving ahead of him to open the door and hold it for Keith and Hunk. He paused after turning into the room, noticing that it was a large communal bathing area, sectioned off by half walls that created a pathway through the center of the room. The floor on either side was dug into the stone, a series of steps leading down into the empty pits. On the benches between the pits and the wall were shelves lined with colorful bottles and even more curious liquids.

“At least I won’t smell like dirt forever,” Lance mused as they moved to the door.

“You don’t smell like dirt,” Keith turned to sniff at his knee, “you smell like moss and my clothes.”

“So dirt and you.”

“…Yeah.”

“Oh shit,” Lance exclaimed suddenly, Keith’s words reminding him, “I didn’t even think about it, but I left your clothes in the SUV; I’m sorry!”

“You still have my ring though, right?”

Lance flashed his hand, turning the back of it towards Keith so that the he could see the band around his index finger, “of course, I haven’t taken it off.”

“Oh, so it’s like that is it,” Hunk hummed thoughtfully behind the pair of them.

Lance was about to deny it when Keith stopped him by responding first, beaming an indecipherable look back at him with those piercing feline eyes.

“And if it is?”

Lance’s mouth went dry and he felt his heart give a few extra, heavy, beats. Hunk raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, but there was no ignoring the amusement in his half-smile, “don’t mind me, I was just making a comment.”

Keith turned back around and began to walk again while Lance followed behind him blankly, heart speeding as he thought about what Keith had meant by his words.

“As long as my ring is safe, I don’t care about the clothes,” Keith said as they passed through the door at the end of the bathing area, padding silently down the short hall only to stop as they came to a large circular area complete with ten rooms, “pick a room. You too, Hunk.”

Lance’s mind wasn’t on the bedrooms even as he opened the door to the first one on the left; he was busy remembering the contours of Keith’s body at the mill and thinking of him shifting back without his clothes in possession. He was jogged from those thoughts, thankfully, when the door closed behind him with a heavy ‘ ** _thump!_** ’ as it latched and he got a look at the room. At the right of the room, a large four poster king sized bed, created similarly to the tables in the mess hall, sat regally with the frame being made from the same stone and going so far as to look as though it were part of the wall. There were two large wardrobes, one on either side of the bed between the walls and the bedside tables. The covers on top of the mattress were a warm maroon, at least that’s what it looked like to Lance, since it was hidden beneath a layer of dust like everything else in the room. Beyond the bedside tables, and dressers, the only other furniture in the room was a large, barrel-curve, chest. The lighting, softer than what they’d experienced in the rest of the sanctuary, was provided by two of those odd crystal decanters that seemed to be a part of the last two posts of the bed, glowing a soft yellow from their tops and bathing the room in a soothing glow. Lance felt his weary body sag in relief and he promptly threw himself on top of the musty bedspread despite the accumulated dust and odd scent that invaded the air in consequence.

“Dork,” Keith said as he padded to the back of the room, peeking his head into a small hallway, “you have a bathroom back here. You should be good.”

Lance pulled his face from the bed, coughing up a little dust, and turned it towards Keith, watching him saunter back to him.

“Thanks for coming with me, but you didn’t have to come in here. Go relax and get some rest, you didn’t get any sleep at all,” Lance smiled sleepily but then turned his eyes away, feeling a tinge of color in his cheeks, “remember what we talked about with the whole ‘you taking care of yourself’ thing.”

“I did need to come with you, I had to make sure it was safe; you can never be too sure. I will get some sleep, but first I think I’ll steal something out of your wardrobe since you did forget my clothes.”

Lance was thankful that Keith didn’t have anything to say about their conversation at the makeshift hot tub.

“It was an accident, you big furry baby.”

Keith didn’t respond, instead moving over the dresser to Lance’s right to balance on his back legs with one paw on the right door so that he could use his other to nudge the other open. Curious, Lance sat up on the bed and angled his head for a better look.

“Holy shit,” he said as his eyes combed the clothing that was hanging up, “we have officially gone back in time.”

“Dramatic much?”

Keith leaned his head in and closed his teeth around a long, cream, shirt that was hanging at the very side of the wardrobe, tugging on it and successfully pulling it down from where it hung. Lance had to stifle a giggle at the sight of Keith, in his feline form, dragging off a shirt that looked like it was supposed to be a woman’s nightgown. He watched as Keith disappeared into the small hallway in the back of the room and he felt his amusement fade as the sound of cracking bone and his fae keeper’s low groans hit his ears. He dropped his attention to the ring on his finger, spinning it around the digit as he tried to block the sounds out. He knew what it looked like and he could only imagine what it must feel like.

The sounds faded away quickly and Lance kept his eyes trained on the doorway to the hall, smiling a little when he caught sight of Keith emerging from the darkness; the smile, however, was short-lived. No sooner than Keith had stepped out from the hallway, he stumbled and fell forward, hitting his knees hard.

“Keith!”

Lance scrambled from the bed and over to him, immediately on the ground beside him with one arm around his waist. Keith was panting and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow as he pulled his head up.

“It’s fine,” he forced out between breaths, “I just… I just spent a lot of energy today and the shift back is always hard. I’ll be fine-“

“The hell you will,” Lance helped pull him back to his feet, nearly stumbling himself when Keith lost his footing again, “c’mon.”

Lance took the majority of his weight and helped him to the bed, lifting his legs up onto it after getting him seated. There were circles beneath his eyes, and the hair around his face was slick with sweat. Lance turned towards the other wardrobe and began pawing through drawers, looking for linens and finding several small clothes. He took one of them and folded it, moving to the other side of the bed where he pulled himself up and began dabbing at Keith’s forehead.

“You can’t keep pushing yourself like this,” he told him, voice strained even to his own ears, “it’s not good for you.”

“I’ve been through worse,” Keith rolled his eyes but there was a noticeable lack of conviction in his words.

“I don’t care that you’ve been through worse, I can’t stand seeing you like this,” Lance muttered miserably, hand falling away.

“Hey,” Keith turned his head and pinned him with a soft, tired, gaze, reaching out to him.

“What?”

Before Lance could react, Keith flicked him right between the eyes.

“What the hell,” Lance squawked in surprise, leaning back and putting a protective hand over his brow, “what was that for?”

Keith gave him a roguish smirk that was annoyingly attractive even in their situation.

“Stop worrying about me, I’m just tired. I’ll be fine if I rest.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to stop me from worrying,” Lance huffed.

“Do you want me to feel better?”

“Of course!”

“Then come here.”

Once more, Lance’s heart gave a few unsteady beats as he looked down at where Keith was patting the place beside him. Unable to resist, Lance slowly laid himself out beside Keith and was promptly pulled to his side, his back nestled close to Keith’s chest.

“Wha-“

A shiver ran through his limbs as he felt Keith’s breath graze the side of his throat, his words vibrating against his skin.

“Just go to sleep Lance; rest. I’ll feel better once you do.”

There was simply no way that Lance could ignore that. As Keith’s arm slid over him, he felt… safe. No matter the thickness of the sanctuary’s walls, their location, or the group of highly capable fae that surrounded them, nothing made him feel as safe as being close to, and held by, Keith. Though it was no easy feat with his heart beating in his throat, Lance soon succumbed to the rhythmic feel of Keith’s breathing against his back and the warmth of his body.

* * *

 

Keith awoke to strands of unruly chestnut hair tickling the tip of his nose. Blinking back the fog of sleep, he had to quell the stiffening of his muscles as looked around, remembering where he was and that, for the moment, they were protected. His body relaxed and he sighed softly to himself, tilting his head back against the soft pillow to look down at Lance. At some point during his slumber, Keith had moved to his back and Lance must have followed seeing as how his cheek was nestled against Keith’s right shoulder and his right arm and leg were thrown over his body. Keith’s arm was around Lance’s shoulders while his other hand was loosely clasped around the forearm draped over his chest.

A powerful emotion surged to life in his chest as he looked over his sleeping form, something that gripped him and reminded him just how close they had come to ruin. In the glen he’d done little else but think about Lance and their narrow escape. As he watched his chest rise and fall against his, he couldn’t help but want to touch him, to remind himself that Lance was here and he was safe. Giving into his urge, Keith turned his head and nuzzled against the soft locks, dropping a kiss against the sleeping man’s forehead. Lance mumbled something unintelligible against his skin, sliding closer.

Keith gently rubbed his hand up and down Lance’s back, his smile growing as Lance sighed happily in his sleep. He looked so peaceful, Keith thought as he took in his relaxed expression and the shadows of his long eyelashes where they rested against his cheeks. Even after all that had befallen them, he was still here and still determined to see it through to the end. A protectiveness joined the unnamed feeling with him as he thought about the life that Lance had lost once he’d agreed to assist them, about the life he would live if, by some miracle, they managed to accomplish their goal. Lance would never see the world the same way, he’d never pass an alley without imagining a different world of danger, and he’d never be able to forget the horrors he’d witnessed, let alone the ones he’d experienced first hand; he’d never be the same Lance that had left Miami looking for answers.

His heart ached as he looked down at him, wondering how such a frail looking creature could be so incredibly strong. Lance was… Lance was extraordinary, there was simply no other way to say it. He went out of his way to help others and he’d always made Keith feel like he was important, that he was more than his guardianship, more than a novelty. He made him feel like it didn’t matter what anyone else had ever thought of him, because Lance cared.

“Mmm, Keith?”

Keith continued stroking his back as Lance yawned, tilting his head up to gaze up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Hmm?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Keith’s hand stilled for a second before it continued its repetitive motions; it was so like Lance to be concerned over him.

“I’m fine,” he answered quietly, “how do you feel?”

“I feel okay, sorry for being all over you,” he said self-consciously, “I turn into a starfish when I sleep.”

Lance tried to pull himself away but Keith stopped him, the hand rubbing his back moving to hook over his hip while the hand on Lance’s forearm tightened, “you’re fine where you are.”

“You don’t need me all over you-“

“Maybe I do.”

Lance stopped moving, his gaze searching Keith’s for a moment before he relaxed his body.

“What’s wrong, Keith?”

Releasing his forearm, Keith reached out to graze the back of his fingers against Lance’s cheek.

“Things keep getting harder and yet you’re still here.”

The sleep haze cleared from Lance’s eyes as he watched him, leaning into his touch even as he rolled his eyes, lips curving into the smile that Keith loved to see.

“Wow, you really don’t listen, huh? Did you forget that I said I’d help you no matter what-“

“That isn’t what I mean,” Keith cut him off hoarsely, hating the small tremble in his hand, “you could have died a handful of times already. Even through all of the bullshit that we’re going through, we’re still not completely mortal. You, though… If something happens to you, you could be gone.”

Thinking it and hearing it aloud, from his own mouth, somehow made it all the more real to him and, as Keith looked down into Lance’s gaze, he felt his chest tighten so severely that he could barely breath. Lance’s eyes darted over his face, taking in the pained expression he was sure he wore, and he tried to paste on a smile.

“Well, maybe then I’ll finally get some rest,” he joked, but Keith wasn’t listening.

“I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Come on, Keith; there have been keepers before me and there will probably be keepers after me.”

“I don’t know what I would do if _you_ were gone, Lance.”

He couldn’t get it out of his mind. As Keith looked down at him, his expression mirrored back at him in those brilliant blue eyes, all he could think about was how much he would hate himself if he didn’t let him know, if he didn’t make damn sure he knew, just how much he meant. It was more than what he meant to the group, it was more than what he could do; it was who he was to Keith.

“C’mon Keith, don’t talk like that-“

With the hand hooked over his hip, Keith guided Lance to his back and slid his arm out from beneath him, rising up and looking down at him for a moment before ducking his head and capturing his lips. Soft and pliant, Lance didn’t fight him, rather he wound his arms around Keith’s neck and pulled him close, opening beneath the gentle insistence of his tongue at the seam of his lips. There was no hesitation in his halfling, no worry, no reservations. Keith knew that he wasn’t the best with words but he could show him, he could let him _feel_ what he felt.

He imprinted the taste of him on his tongue, savoring the quake of his body beneath him as he caressed his jaw with a calloused thumb.

“Keith,” Lance panted when they finally broke apart, sucking in a breath of air with flushed cheeks and intoxicating, heavily lidded, eyes.

“You mean a lot to me,” Keith breathed against the corner of his mouth, placing a tiny kiss there before swiping his lips again briefly, “I’d hate myself if I didn’t make sure you knew.”

Lance’s arms tightened around his neck and he looked back at him, pink, kiss-bruised lips turning upwards into a small smile, “you mean a lot to me, too.”

Keith dropped his forehead to Lance’s, the tip of his nose rubbing softly against his own, “it’s hard for me not to touch you. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s a hard feeling to fight.”

Lance’s arms unwound and he let his hands slide up to cup Keith’s jaw, pulling his face back just enough so that he could fully meet his gaze. He wet his lips with his tongue before he spoke.

“Please.”

“Please what,” Keith asked in a low whisper that had Lance visibly shivering.

“Please, don’t fight it-“

Lance’s next words were a plea, needy and heated.

“-please touch me.”

Lance couldn’t look away from him, waiting with bated breath for Keith to say something, _anything_. There was a fire burning in the foggy blue-grey of Keith’s iris’ as he kept his focus, the hand that had been on his jaw slowly waltzing down his throat and collar, sliding down the dirtied maroon sweater he hadn’t thought to take off before he’d fallen asleep. Lance was entranced, caught in his smoldering gaze even as his fingers reached the bottom of the sweater and slid beneath them, his warm digits smoothing over the quivering flesh of his abdomen.

“It’s hard to keep my sanity around you,” Keith murmured with a self-deprecating smirk as his fingers traced the lines of his hips.

“I like the idea of making you a little crazy,” Lance admitted as he let his hands fall to the bed so that he could push himself up, leaning in as though he were going to kiss him only to pull back with a grin when Keith moved to meet him, “at least then we’re even.”

With a low growl, Keith narrowed his eyes, reaching an arm behind his back so that he could jerk him up against his chest and steal the kiss he’d been denied, diving past his parted lips as he gasped. It felt so right to be held in his arms, pressed closely against his body. His fingers clenched in the cream-colored linen of his night shirt, flexing as both of Keith’s hands slid beneath his sweater and explored his back.

“You make me more than a little crazy,” Keith chuckled breathily, breaking from him, “you drive me completely mad.”

Lance shivered as Keith’s fingernails scraped lightly over his skin, his fingertips pausing just above the waistband of his jeans.

“Keith?”

“Hmm?”

“I want you.”

Keith’s tail flicked rapidly behind him and his ears twitched. He pulled Lance closer, searching his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t you want me?”

The cat sith let his head fall back and he groaned as if the words physically pained him and his hands rubbed comforting circles against Lance’s skin, “more than you could possibly know, but I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t think we have-“

He paused, brows drawing together.

“Keith?”

“Wait for me.”

Without another word, Keith leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before he slid off of the bed. Lance watched quietly as he let himself out of the room, seemingly intent on his purpose. ‘ _Wait for me_.’ Lance replayed the words in his head as he moved to the edge of the bed and pushed off, getting to his feet; as if he would do anything else. He pulled the sweater over his head and tossed it to the corner, adding his jeans after he’d shimmied out of them. He felt like a virgin as he pulled the comforter back to bare the sheets, anticipation putting a shake in his hands as he smoothed them over the blankets. He’d spent too many nights to count lying awake imagining the situation, daydreams full of sighs and moans, but now that it was upon him, he was nervous; what kind of experience did he have? _Would he disappoint Keith?_

It wasn’t like him to be so anxious. He ran a hand through his messy, lengthening, bangs with a self-deprecating snort of amusement, thinking of how, in the past, he would have made all of the moves. He would be all sly smiles and teasing touches, sure of his ability to please the body gracing his bed. Now he was seated on the corner of a bed in an underground vault, his back to the door, with his hands twisting in his lap as he thought about being with Keith. Though Lance never took advantage of the people around him, neither could he say that he’d ever had feelings for anyone who he’d taken to bed; it had merely been two people seeking pleasure in one another. It was different now... _It was different with him._

Like a startled animal, Lance nearly jumped out of his skin when the door opened suddenly, his eyes wide as he turned his head towards the door. Keith paused in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of Lance’s bared skin. He simply stood and looked him over for a long moment before he shut the door behind him, turning the ancient bolt-lock with a resounding ‘ _clack_.’ The foggy color of his iris’ seemed to darken as he slowly, purposefully, walked around the bed, moving towards Lance. Lance gulped as he watched him sit a corked glass bottle to his right on the nightstand.

By all rights, Keith should have looked ridiculous. The shirt he’d grabbed the night before to cover himself after his shift back was dated, its high collar left open to taper down to a sharp, ruffled, V that showed off a sliver of his chest. The sleeves were cinched at the wrists by similar firm cuffs and the bottom of the garment hit him just above the knee. The thick musculature of his shoulders was evident despite the formless garment and he had to turn his gaze away before he inspected the rest of it, knowing that the wore nothing beneath it. Instead of looking out of place, Keith looked perfectly at home, wearing the garment with an air of familiarity.

“What is that,” Lance asked, turning his attention to the pear-shaped glass bottle that sat on the bedside table, eyeing the odd lavender colored liquid inside.

“It’s an oil found in Elphame, just about the only thing here that hasn’t spoiled. It’s similar to olive oil.”

Both of them were quiet for a moment before Keith reached out to him, fingertips lightly skimming his cheek. Lance could see that he was holding himself back, his touch barely connecting with his skin. He wanted, _needed_ , more.

“You touch me like I’m glass,” he told him, looking up at where he stood before him, “just because I’m half human doesn’t mean that I’ll break.”

“I… I just don’t want to hurt you. Are you _sure_ that this is what you want?”

“I am, I _want_ _you_ ,” Lance nodded, “and you aren’t going to hurt me, Keith-“

Lance shivered even as he spoke.

“-touch me like you mean it.”

It was as if his words flipped a switch. Keith’s hand moved to the back of Lance’s neck to hold him in place as he ducked his head, taking his lips with vigor. Lance’s moan was swallowed as Keith reached down to scrape his nails over his bare thigh, another ripping through his throat as Keith bit his bottom lip.

“You sound so sexy,” Keith’s deep murmur set Lance’s skin aflame and he felt the flimsy barrier of his boxers tighten at the promises held in those dulcet tones, “I want to hear you say my name.”

“Keith…”

“Yeah, just like that.”

Keith’s hand settled on Lance’s chest and he pushed him back against the sheets, rising over him. Lance’s skin tingled everywhere that his gaze roamed.

“I’ve wanted to see you like this for so long.”

“Like what,” Lance breathed, feeling like the big cat’s prey as he stretched beneath him.

“Even before that night in Miami I wanted to see you beneath me, pretty blue eyes hazy with want. You talk so much shit, I wondered if your mouth was good for anything else.”

Lance’s groin throbbed as Keith looked down at him with that sexy smirk and he cocked one of his own, “would you like to find out?”

Keith’s eyes closed briefly and he blew out a labored breath, “another time maybe. I wanted you, Lance; I wanted to have you so fucking bad it hurt.”

Lance had no trouble picking up on the past tense of his sentence and there was a niggling of doubt in his chest.

“What changed?”

Keith heard the softening tone and looked down at him, shaking his head, “don’t misunderstand me Lance, I still want you, I never stopped wanting you. The difference is that I’m not here with you just because I want your body.”

Lance’s throat went a little dry.

“What do you want from me, Keith?”

His gaze was direct and honest, and Lance’s heart squeezed.

“Everything.”

The weight of that single word hit him hard, settling in his heart like an anchor. The implications of that word, that one word, were so important, so meaningful, that it took him a moment to formulate a response.

“If… If I give you everything, what do I get in return?”

Keith leaned close, ghosting a kiss over his lips before turning to murmur against his ear, “ _my_ everything.”

He didn’t need any time to think. Lance threw his arms around Keith’s neck and pulled him to him.

“It’s yours.”

Keith dropped to his side so that he could wrap an arm around him, fitting their bodies together.

“And you’re okay with that? Because that means you’re mine.”

“I know what it means,” Lance laughed happily against his throat, “I want to be yours.”

“In that case, let’s make it official.”

“Official?”

Keith pulled back just enough so that he could look at him, another of those crooked, devious, smiles on his lips.

“I’m going to take your body,” he promised in a seductive purr, stroking his hand over Lance’s hip, “and when I’m done, you’ll be covered in my marks.”

The promise of his words had Lance so hard that it nearly hurt, his breath hitching at the thought of Keith marking his body, lips passing over his skin.

“Then what are you waiting for,” Lance lifted his chin a little, “make me yours, Keith.”

It was like a dream, Keith thought as he looked at Lance, HIS Lance, naked but for a silky black pair of boxers, demanding that he make love with him. He only had so much willpower, but every bit of it was lost when Lance looked up at him like that with those baby blues. He’d imagined those words from him, he’d pictured it, but nothing could touch the reality of his halfling, with his arms around him, demanding that he make him his.

He couldn’t repress a groan as his words shot straight to his groin, the linen around him tenting as he hardened. He laid Lance back on the bed on his back, taking a sliver of time to appreciate his form and how much it had changed since they’d first met. Their sparring matches had forced him to gain muscle, his chest widening and his abdomen tightening. When he looked back to Lance’s face, he noticed an obvious reddening of his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Does it embarrass you that I like to look at you? You seem like someone who wouldn’t have a problem showing off.”

“I normally don’t, but other people don’t look at me like you do.”

“Oh? Good.”

Keith grinned, running a hand over his stomach and letting it wander up to his throat as he descended upon him.

“Or maybe you just care more because it’s me looking at you.”

“How about you stop talking so much,” Lance grumbled, though the darkening color in his face told Keith exactly what he already knew.

Keith grinned but did exactly that, leaning down to kiss him. Lance gave as good as he got, toying with his tongue when he opened his lips. That taste, like clove and cinnamon, filled his senses. He swallowed his lover’s sighs as he stroked his bared sides, fingertips flirting with the band of his boxers but moving away each time Lance raised his hips. His whimpers fueled the fire crackling in Keith’s abdomen and when he moved his lips to his throat, he gave in to his desire. He felt his fangs lengthen and he scraped them over Lance’s collarbone, reveling in his gasp and the sight of two thin red welts rising over olive skin. He bit the juncture of his throat, not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark; his mark.

“Keith!”

Lance’s hands had risen to his biceps, his fingertips digging into the cloth as he held to him. He soothed the imprint with his lips, pressing a kiss to the already darkening mark. He continued across Lance’s freckle smattered shoulder, dusting it with small kisses before he marked him again.

“Ah!”

Lance’s hips rose against him, erection pressed to his thigh.

“Does it feel that good? Does my Lance like a little pain with his pleasure?”

Lance gasped when he felt Keith’s teeth sink into his shoulder, cock throbbing at the unfamiliar, yet alluring, sensation.

 _‘My Lance_.’

He held onto Keith’s biceps as he set his skin ablaze, moving across his chest with a trail of open-mouthed kissed and nibbles. He bit and sucked color onto the dark canvas of his skin, leaving pink and purple bruises forming across his shoulder and chest. His hands moved to Lance’s thighs, stroking them as he moved closer, laving attention over the prominent rise of his hip bones.

“Ahhh,” Lance couldn’t stop the outburst as Keith’s fang grazed past the underside of his hipbone, skimming over his sensitive skin.

Keith looked up at him from beneath his long lashes, his lips curled into a smile as he repeated his action, coaxing another moan from his throat.

“Keith, fuck!”

He bucked his hips, desperate for some kind of friction as the sensations of teeth and tongue over his skin mingled with the tickle of Keith’s mane against his skin and the rhythmic rubbing of his outer thighs. Lance’s fingers clenched in the sheets; he needed him, he needed to feel him. It had been so long that he doubted he could last through his torture and his brain was fogged with the intensity of his desire. He could feel the dampness at the tent of his boxers and with each touch he got closer.

Keith continued, moving past his boxers to focus his attention on his thighs. Lance watched, entranced, as he pulled his knee up over his shoulder and bit the soft flesh there, color coming quickly to the surface. Lance clenched at the sheets, his body bowing. It felt so fucking good, the feel of his mouth, even his teeth, against his skin. He marked him as he’d promised, coloring his skin with proof of their connection. As he switched to the other thigh, purposefully skirting Lance’s erection, Lance began to lose it.

“Keith, please, I can’t-“

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t last much longer, I NEED you, please!”

He couldn’t stop the whine, but he needed him so badly, so _fully_ , that he couldn’t take anymore. He didn’t need pampering or soft touches, he didn’t need to be steeped in a full night of teasing, not tonight, he needed Keith; he needed to feel connected and he needed to feel him.

“Don’t worry Lance,” Keith promised with a soft expression, “I’ve got you. Grab that bottle for me.”

Lance blindly fumbled to his right until he managed to grab the bottle and then handed it to Keith. Keith laid the bottle to the side and then slide his hands to the band of Lance’s boxers, quickly tugging them down so that Lance could kick them off. Lance felt exposed and more than a little self-conscious as he lay naked before him, his aching cock hard, arching towards his abdomen. Keith let his gaze linger only momentarily before he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up over his head, baring his body to Lance.

He gulped as he looked over his body. Though he’d seen it before, seeing it now, here, was a different story. Though his frame wasn’t large, he was built, muscled and toned from years of training. His chest tapered down to a well-defined abdomen above powerful thighs. His gaze was drawn to the apex of those thighs, where Keith visibly throbbed amidst a thatch of dark hair, Lance's body quivering as he thought about the Cat Sith inside of him. A wave of heat rushed through his limbs, threatening to suffocate him, and he felt himself twitch in response. All he knew was need and all he needed was Keith.

“You okay?”

Lance met his eyes and nodded, “fine.”

Keith smiled at him, rubbing a comforting hand up his calf as he guided his knees up and moved between his legs. He took the bottle from the bed and pulled the top, pouring some of the sweetly scented liquid in his hand.

“Fuck,” he groaned at the first feel of an oil-slicked digit prodding at his ring of muscle, his hips arching off of the bed as the first entered him.

“Let me know if you want me to stop.”

“As if,” Lance chuckled breathily, his words punctuated by a gasp as Keith’s other hand grasped the base of his shaft.

“Keith I’m telling you-“

“Do you trust me?”

“…I do.”

“Then stop worrying, just let me make you feel good.”

Lance’s head lolled back against the pillow as Keith’s hand lightly stroked him, keeping his mind off of the additional digits he’d begun adding within him. Lance thrust up into his hand, the friction of his touch sending his skin prickling.

“God, Keith-“

Almost immediately after he spoke, Keith’s motions halted. When Lance pulled his head up to look at him, Keith was watching him with intensity, the innermost part of his iris’ having turned the same yellow as it might if he had shifted. His tail was poised, still, as he watched him, and one of his fangs was still clearly visible.

“Lance.”

His voice was a little deeper than usual and there was hesitation on his face.

“Keith? You look-“

“I’m finding it very hard to control myself. I might be rough with you-“

“I. Am. Not. Glass. I never asked you to control yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know that I want you. I don’t want you to water yourself down and treat me like I’m a doll. Show me who you are Keith. I want you for you, _all of you_.”

A low growl sounded as he slowly removed his fingers from within him, Lance watching as he stroked himself before positioning himself against him. The feel of his cock pushing into him, stretching him, was so intense that Lance forgot how to breathe. Heat, incredible heat, shot through him like lightning and then mellowed into a pleasant spread of warmth as Keith buried himself inside of him, his hands wrapped around his thighs. He looked almost feral, his two-toned eyes focused on him as the nails on his fingers lengthened, the claws a stark contrast against his skin. He could feel Keith pulsing inside of him, pressing against him even though they were both still, and good god did he ache for him.

“You feel so fucking good,” Keith groaned as he leaned in, pushing his knees back towards his chest, and gave a shallow thrust, “so good.”

Lance knew it should scare him, the changes in Keith’s body, but he could only feel a dark thrill, his body begging to be possessed by him. His hips surged up to meet him as he moved, the sounds of their meeting flesh filling the room alongside Lance’s moans and cries. The claws at his thighs dug in, leaving indentations in his skin and tingeing each pleasurable fill with an edge. Each mark was a brand, every colored patch of skin screaming its belonging to Keith just as he wanted to. He gave himself over to him, writhing in pleasure with every thrust as he was filled again, and again, and again. Keith reached forward to grasp his cock, smearing the beaded liquid across his tip before pumping him in conjunction with the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Oh god, _oh fuck_ , Keith”

“That’s right, Lance; say it again.”

“Keith!”

A hoarse cry tumbled over his lips as Keith thrust upwards, slamming right into that sweet spot without warning. Stars burst behind Lance’s eyes and he could hardly catch his breath as his body began to quiver, it was too good, it was _too much-_

“Keith, I’m- I'm going to come!”

Keith reached for him, leaning in to take his lips and swallow his cry of release as he thrust again, his own release following almost immediately.

“Fuck, Lance!

He moved to pull away from him but Lance wrapped his legs around his back, his ankles crossed just above the base of his tail. He felt Keith’s body spasm and couldn’t help but feel a little smug as he fell forward, catching his weight on shaky arms before he could fall onto Lance.

“Some of us were trying not to make a mess,” Keith sighed when his arms stopped shaking but, when he looked up at him, there was only affection

“I don’t mind a little mess if it’s you,” Lance chuckled, reaching out to push some hair out of his face before Keith disentangled himself.

“How about we go turn on the baths and get a soak in before everyone gets up,” Keith offered as he flopped down at his side, dropping a small kiss on his temple, “we can’t lay here like this and this place doesn’t have baths in the rooms.”

“Okay but if we walk out there and someone sees me like this,” Lance gestured to his body, “you get to explain and I get to die on the spot.”

“Put on one of shirts in the wardrobe, you moron,” Keith rolled his eyes, turning to press his lips to Lance’s cheek before he rolled off of the bed and grabbed his earlier garment, “I’m going to go start the baths. Don’t make me wait too long.”

Lance couldn’t stop the smile on his lips from spreading as he watched him dress and leave him to do the same, his chest practically full to bursting from such a warm, unfamiliar, happiness. He couldn’t remember ever feeling cared for the way he did with Keith, or feeling so blissfully content. Lance was quick to hop off of the bed himself and begin looking for something to throw on and then change into for the pair of them.

‘Don’t make me wait too long.’

Lance hugged the bundle of clothing to his chest as he looked back towards the door. No, he wouldn’t; they’d both waited long enough.

 


	28. Resist

_ “Have you ever seen a creature so beautiful?” _

 

_ Alfor’s smile was the softest Coran had ever seen it as the Seelie King held the sleeping babe in his arms, her small body dwarfed by his large frame. Her large blue eyes were closed as she slumbered, her head of snow white hair smoothed down where Alfor’s hand had been gently running over it. _

 

_ “She looks just like you, Sire,” Coran smiled in return, stepping closer to gaze down at the child, the small princess of the Seelie court.  _

 

_ Alfor turned his attention to him, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes, “let’s hope that’s all of me she resembles, lest she drive you out of your mind as I have these long years.” _

 

_ “Any child of yours is bound to be at least a little wild,” Coran rolled his eyes, but his voice quieted as he added, “but it would be an honor to be by their side just as it has been to be by yours.” _

 

_ Coran tucked his arm and made to bow, stopped from lowering by a large hand. When he raised his head, he faced Alfor, standing before him with the young princess Allura tucked against his chest.  _

 

_ “There is no audience, no souls save the three of us,” Alfor murmured in a voice warmer than honeyed brandy, “you bow your head to the King, but here I wear no crown, no regalia; here I am only Alfor, and your place is at my side, never my feet.” _

 

_ Coran felt his heart swell at the feel of his lips brush his temple before he returned to his seat, tender smile still in place as he let his eyes fall back to his daughter. _

 

* * *

 

_ “You mean it?” _

 

_ Coran looked from Alfor to the document on the desk and back again, brows drawing together as he let his eyes linger over the script again. _

 

_ “Of course I do; there’s no one else I would rather be there. You did say that it would be an honor to be by the side of my child.” _

 

_ Alfor was wearing that grin again, the one that meant Coran was already committed no matter what he could think to argue with.  _

 

_ “And I meant it,” Coran nodded fervently, “but-” _

 

_ Alfor reached out to lay his hand over Coran’s where it sat on the desk, squeezing gently, “I would never entrust her to anyone else. It is my official request that your services be turned over to my daughter, that you might guide and protect her as you have done for me. She is the most precious thing in my life and there is no one that I trust more than you.” _

 

_ Coran felt his lip twitch as he looked at the document, trying not to look down lest his treacherous eyes betray him and drip a tear or two onto the parchment.  _

 

_ “And who, then, will stand at your side if I’m to stand at hers?” _

 

_ “Your position will remain vacant and I will still call upon you, the difference being that your held office will not be directly in service of me.” _

 

_ Coran caught his breath, realizing at once the benefit of his new assignment. _

 

_ “Then being together would be less problematic?” _

 

_ Alfor’s smirk was more than a little devious, “oh, it will still garner us more than our fair share of noble disgust, the only difference is that it will be clear that you are in a position to refuse any advances, so there can be no more talk of you being a slave to my desire. You serve my daughter, not I, thus you can no longer be seen as a pawn for me to manipulate. When they see us together after today, they will know it is because that is what we both chosen, not what I have decided for the both of us.” _

 

_ “Their prattling means nothing-” _

 

_ “It means they besmirch you and I will not see that with  _ **_any_ ** _ sort of dignity,” Alfor said stubbornly, squeezing his hand a little harder as the corners of his mouth quirked upwards, “now sign the paper so that it won’t be an abuse of my office when I do what I’m about to do.” _

 

_ Coran had never signed a document faster in his life. _

 

* * *

 

_ “Coran!” _

 

_ He caught her as she jumped, swinging her in a wide arc before slowing and setting her back onto her feet, grinning at the wild mane of white hair that had slid from her hair tie.  _

 

_ “Your father is going to think I let you run with the sylvans with hair like that, we need to get you ready for the celebration. How were your lessons?” _

 

_ Allura wrinkled her nose as she set into a leisurely pace beside him, the pair walking through the open halls of the palace, “tedious and uninformative; I’ve learned all of this already.” _

 

_ There was more than a little pride in his chest. _

 

_ “They underestimate you, princess, but you are without a doubt your father’s daughter; he soaked up his lessons like a sponge as well.” _

 

_ As she always did when he spoke of her father, Allura turned her large blue eyes up to him and grinned, “tell me more about my father when he was young!” _

 

_ “The last time I did that, he nearly skinned me. Are you trying to get me killed?” _

 

_ Allura rolled her eyes, “we both know he’d never kill you. Maiming might be on the table, though.” _

 

_ “You are a devious child.” _

 

_ “My father’s daughter, remember?” _

 

_ The pair of them laughed as they came to her chambers, making their way inside.  _

 

_ “Maybe some other time. For now, we need to get you ready for your name day festivities. I imagine your father spared no expense.” _

 

_ “Does he ever?” _

 

_ Coran chuckled as she sat in front of him, letting him tame her hair and retie it for her. _

 

_ “You are his joy in this world, he takes pleasure in your pleasure.” _

 

_ Even though her back was to him, he could practically see the smile on her face as her ears reddened. _

 

_ “He should spend more effort finding his own,” she hummed thoughtfully, “he’s been stressed lately.” _

 

_ “Being the regent is hardly an easy job,” he remarked, though he agreed with her. _

 

_ “We should throw him a celebration,” she pitched, turning her head to look back at him and nearly causing him to rip her hair out. _

 

_ “Careful, Princess!” _

 

_ She dropped her head sheepishly, “my apologies.” _

 

_ “Do try not to make me pull out your hair.” _

 

_ “I’m serious though, Coran! We should do something for him. We could make him a juniberry cake! Those are his favorite.” _

 

_ Smiling wryly, Coran tapped her on top of the head with the blunt edge of the hairbrush, “are you sure you’re saying that for him, because I seem to recall those being your favorite as well.” _

 

_ It was as though he was looking directly at the King as she turned and formed a smirk that was the spitting image of her fathers. _

 

_ “Well then if it’s my favorite, you can hardly decline to help me make one on my name day, right?” _

 

_ Coran sat in silence for a moment before he shook his head and sighed dramatically, “I don't need to tell you anything about how your father was as a young man because you are just like him. Come on then, we can get the cake started before you have to be at the plaza and we can have one of the maids take it out while we’re gone.” _

 

_ As much as he wanted to be at least a little cross with her for manipulating him so well, he couldn’t help but admire her methods. Allura was truly her father’s daughter. _

 

* * *

 

“Do not think you can ignore me, Seelie! Tell me where you’ve taken the boy!”

 

Coran winced at the booming echo of the witch’s voice as it pulled him from the depths of his mind, wrenching him from the warmth of memory and flinging him into the pain, the cold, of what was.

 

“N-n-”

 

His voice quivered as he pushed the words to his cracked lips, forcing the syllables between clenched teeth as he tried valiantly to fend off the urge to cry out.

 

“-no.”

 

The sound barely registered, nearly lost amidst the constant, maddening, sound of dripping water and the obscene chewing of the abominations by his chained legs. Before him, the hooded woman paced, heavy cowl covering her face, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides with each step. 

 

“You try my patience, steward,” she hissed from beneath the hood, stringy strands of white hair hanging limply as she turned her face towards him, “and I have been  _ so _ patient. How much longer must we go through this?

 

She snapped her gnarled fingers and Coran made to yell, to pause her, but his voice failed him as, for what might have been the fifth time, the spider-esque beings bit into the flesh of his legs, fangs burrowing into his calves. His arms jerked against the cold steel fetters holding him against the damp stone wall, his body bowing away from the stone as he rebelled against the absolute agony, trying to pull away though he knew that it was in vain. Burning, searing, pain followed the creatures’ punctures, intensifying as their childlike front arms reached for the wounds, small fingers digging into the punctures to pull and pry at his very skin, ripping and tearing before bringing the rent flesh to the mouths hidden behind the stolen, desiccated, faces they wore as macabre masks. 

 

He shuddered as they looked up at him, multiple black eyes peering up from asymmetrical holes in their masks, where human eyes had once been, as those childlike hands held the skin, his skin, that they fed through the gaping maw of their disguises. They made noises as they chewed, a series of low hisses that were punctuated by high pitched, ghoulish, children’s laughter. 

 

“When will enough be enough,” the witch asked in a low, almost soothing, voice as she stopped in front of him, shooing away the creatures, “so much pain for one tainted child. Aren’t you tired?”

 

“Ti-tired of your idiotic nattering,” Coran managed with a hiss, glaring through the sweat-soaked hair that fell around him, his chest heaving with labored breaths as he felt blood weep from his wounds,, “you’ll get n-nothing.”

 

“Oh,” the witches voice morphed, the ragged, scratchy, sound darkening with what nearly sounded like delight, “I thought you might say that.”

 

Fear gathered in Coran’s chest at the sound, and he clenched his hands, swallowing thickly as he pushed the stinging pain in his legs to the back of his mind. From the corner of room came the telltale clicking sounds the spider children made, their sharpened legs tapping as they came into view. He steeled himself for more, taking deep breaths to try to ready himself, but he was unprepared for what came next. Rather than have the children attack him, they emerged from the darkness behind another. 

 

“We brought some insurance to get you to talk,” the witch cackled, throwing her arm out to the side to gesture at the bedraggled woman standing before the hybrid monsters.

 

Coran’s heart lurched and he felt a hot stream of tears leak from the corners of his eyes as he looked over her. Allura’s hands and feet were bound, hands and fingers caked in mud and blood, her feet bare. There were cuts across her face, one slicing across her eye that she was sure to keep closed. Her hair fell in matted clumps and her clothes were torn and in some places shredded, bloodied scratches peeking out from where the fabric pulled apart. She was shaking, her lips tinged in blue, and it was clear that they’d been keeping her just on the edge of consciousness by the way her eyelids fluttered and her body wavered from side to side.

 

The witch roughly reached out to take a hold of her bindings and sling her forward, knotting a hand in her hair to jerk her head back so that Allura was forced to look up at him. Her lips quivered as she whimpered, tears freely falling down her cheeks.

 

“If you don’t speak, steward,” the witch threatened, raising a clawed finger up to Allura’s cheek where she dug it into her flesh, “we’ll just have to start punishing her as well.”

 

The sound of her agonizing scream churned Coran’s stomach and he had to clench his fists to keep from sobbing at the combination of the sight and sound. 

 

“If it makes it easier, why don't you just speak to her instead of me,” the witch suggested, pulling her talon-like fingernail from within the girl’s skin to slid her hand to her chin, aiming her bruised face fully at him. 

 

The eyes that looked back at him were broken and sorrowful, so full of fear and misery that it made him sick. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as kindly as he could to her, his bleeding lips forming a gentle smile, “I’m so sorry. You s-shouldn’t have to suffer for crimes that aren’t yours. Forgive me, child.”

 

Coran lifted his head, turning a hard gaze to Haggar before he boomed in a voice as loud as he could manage, “I’ll have none of your illusions, you half-rate harpy!”

 

“Bah!”

 

Haggar hissed as she pulled on the woman’s hair and threw her to the floor, watching momentarily as she struggled to find a way out of the prison she found herself in. With another series of snaps, the ominous clicking sounds began to emanate from around the room and from within the darkened corners, sharp arachnid legs and childlike arms reached out for the lookalike. No matter what he knew in his heart, no matter how strong his convictions, Coran still was forced to watch as a young seelie fae wearing the image of his Allura was mutilated alive before his very eyes, torn asunder until all that was left was a gleaming puddle of blood and scraps of discarded flesh and gnawed bone fragments at his chained feet.

 

“You think you’re clever,” the witch laughed dryly as she began pacing once again, her feet splashing in the rivulets of blood left over from the kill and leaving bloodied footprints in her wake as she walked around him, “but there is so much more that we can do to you, so much more for you to witness. This has been childs play.”

 

“Enough, Haggar.”

 

The witch was stopped in her tracks by the sound of a deep voice from beyond the shadows in the back of the room. 

 

“My Lord,” she bowed as the figure began to emerge.

 

The sound of his voice was all too familiar to Coran; it had been a staple his waking and dreaming horrors for too long. The pain, the sorrow, the agony- all of it melted away into the growing ball of rage and seething hatred that took over his being the moment that Zarkon, the self-proclaimed Unseelie king, walked into the dim candlelight and stood before him. Without a second of hesitation, Coran spat upon him, taking the backhanded gauntlet slap without a measure of regret. 

 

“Tired of watching her have all the fun,” he taunted as he smiled, lips burning as they pulled back and split further, blood dribbling down his chin, “you’ve g-gotten complacent in your old age; letting your lackeys do your dirty work for you.”

 

Zarkon didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by his words as he re-adjusted the studded gauntlet on his hand. In the years since he’d seen him, Zarkon’s skin had mottled, colored grey like dingy metal with purple undertones and his eyes seemed to possess an unnatural glow. Within the layers of purple and grey armor, he looked like a soulless golem; a perfect representation of what he was. 

 

“Where is the boy?”

 

“Where boys are, probably.”

 

“Who is he with?”

 

“A horde of yutsnickels.”

 

“What is his next move?”

 

“Well, a boy his age certainly wouldn’t open a ranch with them, even if it is a horde. He’ll probably sell them off. Yutsnickels you know, terribly annoying.”

 

Though his voice was still hoarse, still low, Coran continued goading him. The moment he’d realized his predicament he’d known that all that awaited him was death and, if he was to die, he would do so as a guardian; as the man Alfor had known. If Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe was to die, he would make sure that his knowledge, his secrets, died with him; if he got to fuck with Zarkon a little along the way, well, that would just be a bonus. 

 

“I thought it might be pointless to ask you,” Zarkon commented without missing a beat, “you never were the type to give up what you knew so easily; if you were, Alfor never would have trusted you.

 

“Then why bother?”

 

“To give you a chance to change your attitude in order to save them. All I want is the boy; if you had given up his whereabouts, the rest of them would have been safe. I have no desire to kill more fae than necessary.”

 

“No killing of fae is necessary, but you’ll use anything to rationalize your own agenda.”

 

“I do what I do for the sake of all fae,” Zarkon said, turning those disconcerting, glowing, eyes upon Coran’s, “even those of you too lost to see it. It’s a shame that you turned out so like your lover. Tell me, steward; do you have any idea how I managed to kill an immortal?”

 

In truth, Coran had spent many of his years since Alfor’s death wondering exactly that. He remembered standing at his King’s side along with Vicar as Alfor met with the Unseelie court in a gathering meant to unify the two courts and put an end to the classism and open discrimination on both sides. Tensions had risen due to the recent changes in the Seelie court and Alfors keeper project that had been put into effect despite the fervent disapproval of the unseelie leaders. Everything had felt out of place that day, even Vicar had expressed his opinion that the meeting should be postponed in favor of later date, but Alfor had been adamant. 

 

When the topic of the keeper project was brought up, tensions around the hall exploded. The Seelie Kings-Guard, meant to accompany them only as far as the hall and wait for further orders, had been slaughtered before the meeting had begun and so, when Coran had called for aide, none had come. Alfor’s attendants were forced to watch as Zarkon, surprising even his own men, brandished a pulsing blade of lavender light and plunged it into the heart of the Seelie King. Coran felt the sorrow in his heart rekindle as he remembered hitting his knees, catching his falling king in his arms seconds before his body turned to ash. That memory,  the remembrance of watching his lover perish and waste away before his very eyes, in his very arms, was far more painful than anything Zarkon’s witch could have put him through and, perhaps, that had been his intention.

 

“You think this will somehow encourage me to tell you where to find the boy so you can kill him? Tsk tsk, daft even for the king of rats and ruin.”

 

“Why you-”

 

“Silence Haggar,” Zarkon barked when the witch spoke up, turning his head slightly to meet her gaze before he turned back to Coran, “leave us until I summon you.”

 

“But my Lord-”

 

“Do not make me speak my order again.”

 

The witch hesitated, her body stiff beneath the draping folds of her robe, but she bowed after a moment and shuffled into the back of the room, shadow engulfing her as she obeyed, the sound of her smacking bloodied footsteps disappearing soon after her visage. When Zarkon seemed content with the relative silence, he spoke again.

 

“Tell me, do you think that you do them any favors by hiding him? The longer you shield him, the angrier I become and as my wrath grows, so does my cruelty.”

 

“I. Will. Never,” Coran spoke slowly and purposefully, lingering over each syllable, “Betray. Them.”

 

“You could have saved them yet, instead, you condemn them. I asked you if you knew how I killed your lover.”

 

“What does that have to do with anything; that doesn’t frighten me.”

 

“If anything should frighten you,” Zarkon laughed, the deep, foreboding, sound vibrating from the walls and sending dread slithering over Coran’s skin, “it should be that.”

 

The Unseelie lord began to pace leisurely before him as he continued to speak.

 

“After your misguided Alfor busied himself tainting our lines with the humans, we began our own research and discovered... _ alternative _ uses for them. Their knowledge and embodiment of the Elder fae allows them potential stolen from the rest of us. Haggar devised a ritual that allowed her to mold the creatures, retaining their knowledge while destroying their corporeal form. Fusing the souls of the hybrids can, for a very short time, create enough energy to obliterate living matter, no matter which realm it resides in as the hybrids held the key to taking fae life.”

 

“...You mutated them, killed them, and then perverted their essence by creating a weapon to kill your own kind?”

 

“MY kind would never put those primal beasts before fae,” Zarkon growled, “your precious king was the one who perverted them; I am righting his wrongs.”

 

“Why bother telling me any of this?”

 

“Because I thought you might want to know what’s next for you if you refuse to give us what we seek. While the hybrids are necessary to kill an immortal, in the state that fae are in now we would only need to fuse a handful of regular fae, which wouldn’t be a problem if we can kill them before they heal. With the flow of energy stemmed, that is childs play. If you refuse, we will see to it that you become part of the weapon we use to kill the only part of your king left; his daughter.”

  
  
  



	29. Steam and Affection

* * *

# 

 

Keith and Lance had both completely forgotten exactly how large the bathing pools were until they were sitting on the steps that fed into the large area, the water still only to their calves after nearly fifteen minutes. 

 

“We… We are not bright.”

 

Keith pursed his lips as he watched the water pour through the tarnished faucets on the three pillars by the half wall dividers, sighing at the subpar flow, “we are not.”

 

“At least it’s warm,” Lance offered with a small smile as he leaned back on his elbows, letting his eyes close and his head fall back as the water rose slowly, warming his skin. 

 

He heard Keith move but he kept his eyes closed, a sweet anticipation in his stomach as the touch he craved came to him. Keith’s bangs tickled Lance’s skin as he bent and skimmed his lips over his exposed throat, cold chills rising over his flesh despite the steam of the bath billowing up around them. Sighing happily, he tilted his head to the side, humming as Keith’s lips trailed up to his jaw, stopping to press a kiss just below his earlobe.

 

“Mmm, what was that for,” Lance opened his eyes, staring up at Keith who was watching him with soft eyes and a slight smile.

 

“Do I need a reason?”

 

Lance shook his head, pushing off the cold stone to place his own kiss against his lips.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Good.”

 

The large area was filled with winding clouds of steam by the time that the water was high enough to sink into, so thick that it was hard to see more than a few feet beyond the top stair of the pool. Keith turned off the faucets and leisurely walked back to him, his dark mane dampened by the moisture and slicked back where he’d pushed it from his face, leaving his ears to show more prominently. Alongside those stormy slit eyes and the tail sliding about languidly behind him, the combination gave him the image of some primally attractive cover model for GQ Fae that had Lance simultaneously jealous and aroused. 

 

“What,” he asked as he dipped down, sexy smirk on his mouth as he moved through the water to rest at Lance’s side.

 

“Nothing,” Lance shrugged, reaching out to effortlessly pull himself onto his lap as he sat on the submerged step, hands sliding up his chest so that he could drape his arms loosely over his shoulders and toy with the wet strands of hair plastered to his skin, “I was just thinking that it should be illegal how hot you are.”

 

His stomach flipped at the widening of Keith’s smirk and the feel of his fingers brushing gently over the bruised patches just under each hip.

 

“Are you trying to sweet talk me?”

 

“Is it working?”

 

“Maybe,” Keith leaned their foreheads together, the tips of their noses rubbing, “how do you feel?”

 

Lance let his eyelids flutter closed, focusing on the rhythmic rubbing of Keith’s thumbs against his skin, “tired and a little sore-”

 

Before Keith could open his mouth, Lance opened his eyes and pinned him with a sharp look.

 

“-but don’t you dare try to apologize to me; you didn’t hurt me.”

 

It was impossible for Keith to look away from him when they were so close and so he simply sighed, closing his own eyes for a moment and allowing his body to release some of the tension that had wound its way through his limbs before opening them again.

 

“At least let me do something for you.”

 

Lance leaned back on his lap, a skeptical narrowing to his eyes, “like what?”

 

Keith easily disentangled himself from Lance’s limbs and moved fluidly towards one of the shelves at the edge of the pool that was filled with colorful bottles, the liquid inside seeming to almost sense his presence if the sudden movement within the oddly shaped bottles was any indication. Curious, Lance followed Keith over to the shelf, water shifting languidly around his chest as he walked up behind him, watching him pluck an hourglass shaped bottle, as brilliantly white as Allura’s hair, out of the lineup and sniff at the glass stopper. Seemingly satisfied with it, he plucked another from the shelf, this time a pale blue one that reminded Lance of an old perfume bottle, faceted like a gem and shaped like a polished diamond with a stopper at the sharp end. 

 

“Come over here.”

 

Keith reached back to take Lance’s hand and pull him to the edge of the bath, nudging him upwards so that he was seated on the cold stone, the water lapping at his knees as his legs remained submerged. Keith sat beside him and pulled the glass stopper out of the bottle, tilting it until a shimmery rose gold creme poured into his palm. The scent of plum and grape hit Lance’s nose alongside something else, something impossibly light and sweet, foreign yet almost familiar. 

 

“Lean back on your elbows.”

 

Lance obeyed, watching as Keith lathered his hands and then reached for him, smoothing the cool substance over his darkening bruises with a light caress. His fingers were gentle as he rubbed the sore markings, careful to look up and scan his features, vigilant for any sign that he was hurting him. 

 

“What is this,” Lance asked, watching as his skin took on a similar shimmer as Keith rubbed it onto the fingerprint bruises on his thigh, taking in another whiff of the scent.

 

“It’s Bacchus-evina, a balm that soothes muscle aches,” Keith informed his as he worked it into his skin, pausing to place a kiss to his knee before he slowly placed his leg back into the water, “it’s also good for your skin, though it does leave a glittery sort of shine.”

 

Lance’s heart swelled as Keith lovingly nursed his bruises, little by little easing him back into the water as he moved up to the collar of bite marks along his throat.

 

“I could have taken it a little easier on you,” he muttered to himself as his fingers traced the brands he’d left in the wake of their passions, the brands that spoke of their solidified union.

 

“It was perfect,” Lance let his hands settle on Keith’s hips as he worked, “I felt wanted.”

 

Pausing, Keith pulled him against the solid wall of his chest and took advantage of his surprise to take his lips, hands still on either side of his throat. 

 

“You are  _ always _ wanted,” Keith murmured lowly, his voice almost a purposeful growl, as he returned to massaging the balm into the bruises with all the gentleness he could muster, stealing another taste to punctuate his words.

 

They stood still like that for a moment or two, soaking in one another’s closeness, before Lance remembered the other bottle.

 

“What is that one,” he nodded to the gem shaped container Keith had left sitting on the edge of the bath.

 

“It’s for your hair. I picked the one that seemed the most pretentious.”

 

Lance’s eyes narrowed at the playful smirk Keith aimed at him as he winked, “you just had to ruin the moment.”

 

“If the ‘moment’ had continued, I might have had you on the stone and given you some more marks to remember the experience by.”

 

Lance felt himself twitch as the memories of hoarse groans and sharp claws against his skin played within his mind and he had to clear his throat, looking away from Keith’s knowing smile as he tried to calm the fire that was rekindling in his loins.

 

“Ass.”

 

His lover merely laughed as he uncorked the bottle and poured out a small amount of teal liquid before replacing the stopper. Though he was a little embarrassed at the idea of being so thoroughly catered to by him, Lance wet his hair and allowed Keith to work the liquid through his hair, the feel of his fingers massaging his scalp nearly causing his knees to tremble. A winding sigh left his lips and the cat sith chuckled.

 

“Do you feel any better?”

 

He was surprised to find that he actually did, the places where Keith had applied the balm being left feeling comfortably numb and there was something to the scent that seemed to further relax him. 

 

“Mmhmm, I do actually.”

 

“Magic hands.”

 

Before Lance could come up with a snappy response, both men froze as they were met with the sound of the bath doors opening. They heard the footsteps before they got a glimpse of the arrivals, looking up after a moment to see Thace and Matt skirting the divider with similarly out of date clothing draped over their arms.

 

“Mornin’,” Matt called as he tossed the clothes out of the splash zone and started to shuck off his pants, paying no mind to how still Thace had gone at his side as he stared at Lance with perceptive narrowed eyes, “how’s the water?”

 

“It’s perfect! I had forgotten how nice a real bath was,” Lance laughed as he dipped his head back and began washing the lather from his hair, paying neither of them much attention.

 

“Yeah last time we risked fish nibbling at the toes,” Matt grinned as he walked into the water, sighing dramatically, “god but that’s amazing. You comin’ in, Thace, or are you one of those ‘no water’ cats?”

 

Lance immediately felt his body tense and he found himself looking over to Keith to catch his reaction, knowing how he felt about jabs, even well-meaning or harmless ones, aimed at his kind. When he looked his way, however, he doubted that Keith had even heard him. Lance followed his line of sight to see that his attention was locked on where Thace stood, still unmoving, at the edge of the bath. 

 

“Thace?”

 

Lance’s voice seemed to jar him from his thoughts but he didn’t speak, averting his eyes from where they had been locked onto him and stripping his clothes in silence before slipping into the corner of the bath. There was something unsettling about the discomfort in his face as he’d looked at him, something that put Lance on alert, but he did his best to shake it off and plastered on a smile.

 

“How are you guys feeling?”

 

Matt shrugged from where it looked like he’d melted against one of the pillars, his movements minuscule, “you know how in video games if you hit something really hard with a car it goes flying for about fifty feet and then hits the ground and occasionally catches on fire?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Me,” Matt deadpanned.

 

Lance snorted, knowing that feeling well, “same!”

 

The pair laughed, the sound echoing around the stone walls, but as it faded, he could practically feel Thace’s eyes back on him. Lance faced him, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt when he noticed the still narrowed eyes zeroing in on the bruises along his throat.

 

“How about you, Thace; how do you feel?”

 

“Well enough,” he replied with whatever thoughts lurking in his eyes only just thinly veiled in his voice, “how are the two of you? Did you sleep well?”

 

“Actually,” Matt spoke up as he pushed off from the pillar and zoomed over to Lance, raising his brows as he, too, noticed the bruises on his skin, “did you sleep  _ at all _ ?”

 

“We slept fine,” Keith answered after making eye contact with Lance and picking up on the absolute dread as he wondered what he was supposed to say.

 

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

 

Thace’s voice was flat as he moved to peruse the shelves of bottles, no longer interested in conversation. Lance didn’t know what he was supposed to say, or how he was supposed to act, now that it had practically been announced that the pair of them had slept together. Desperate for some conversation to fill the room after the awkward silence began to overtake them, he turned his attention back to Matt, who was rubbing at a smudge of stubborn dirt on his freckled forearm. 

 

“Hey Matt, how’s Shiro doing?”

 

Matt didn’t look up as he continued scrubbing, “he’s okay; he’s still a little tired after giving too much to the decanter last night but he’ll bounce back after some more sleep, a bath, and something to eat.”

 

“Is there even anything here that’s edible? I think your sister was right when she said just about everything in here is old enough to kill us,” Lance raised a brow, his own stomach gurgling a little at the thought.

 

“No, the food stores are emptied or bad,” Matt answered.

 

“I was planning to take Keith with me to fish the Tay,” Thace spoke up from where he was slathering his arms and shoulders with Bacchus-evina, “if he’s up for it.”

 

“Sounds good to me, I need something to stretch my muscles anyway,” Keith shrugged, “besides, I’m starving too.”

 

“Awesome, that takes care of that then. Have either of you two checked up on Allura?”

 

Thace and Matt both shook their heads at Lance’s question.

 

“I think I’ll go check up on her and Pidge after this then. She didn’t look good last night.”

 

The guard that had been up around Thace’s expression dropped in an instant and all Lance saw when he looked at him was sorrow in the split-second before he carefully, and quickly, rebuilt it.

 

“That might be best; she could likely use the support. Feel free to explore at your leisure, just do not leave the sanctuary,” Thace instructed them, “we’ll have to have a meeting later in the day to discuss where we go from here and then we should have a plan. Until then, make yourselves at home; I think I speak for all of us when I say that we could all use a moment to rest.”

 

“You can say that again,” Matt smirked, “the whole ‘running for our lives’ thing is getting a little old.”

 

“Well, luckily we’ve got a pretty badass group,” Lance boasted, finding himself being reminded just how well they had worked together up to this point and subsequently filled with pride; they truly were up against the most wicked and hideous things off the world and they were still fighting.

 

“You can say that again.”

 

Feeling a comforting sense of camaraderie that overshadowed the niggling wonder about Thace’s attitude changes, Lance stood from his seat on the step and reached for one of the large towels he’d tossed near the wall, wrapping it around his waist.

 

“I’m going to go ahead and go see Allura.”

 

Though he wasn’t looking at him, there was no doubt that Lance’s words were meant for Keith who unabashedly answered, “okay, I’ll come get you when we get back.”

 

Ignoring the smug smirk and odd gaze, Lance smiled and padded back to his room where he dressed in a woefully dated ruffled linen shirt and black breeches, towel drying his seemingly longer-by-the-day hair and letting it fall into a side-parted artful tousle that left the scent of the conditioner Keith had run through it lingering around his face. The smell reminded him of their affections and it made him smile as he made his way back out, waving to the trio still enjoying the heated waters before he left the room. He made it back to the hallway outside the guardians’ sleeping quarters and went straight ahead, remembering that he and Keith had taken the left while Allura and Pidge had gone towards the keepers’ rooms to the right. 

 

He came upon a large set of double doors similar to the ones that led into the bathing area and pushed through, a slight gasp lost in the large room as he marveled at the scale of it. About twice the size of the large communal bathing area, the room he’d entered was split into two sections, one housing a two-story library while the other seemed to be some sort of alchemy lab, with bottles similar to the ones in the baths arranged on the walls with labels covered in strange symbols and scrawls. There were tables with etchings and brilliant inlaid stones, chisels and chunks of misshapen metals lying about on their surface. His bare feet made no noise as he padded across the large golden runner carpet that took him to the door beneath the library balcony that spanned nearly one-fourth of the room. 

 

When he opened the door he was met with a visage similar to the one that led to the keepers’ rooms near the baths. He stood still for a moment and listened, catching a small shred of muffled speech coming from the first room to his left. He turned and knocked on the heavy door, waiting for a moment as he heard the speech stop instantly and the sound of footsteps met his ears briefly before the door cracked open.

 

“Lance?”

 

“Hey,” he smiled warmly as Pidge opened the door further, “I just wanted to come check on you two. Can I come in?”

 

There were visible bags under her golden eyes and her hair was wild, the short tendrils around her face sticking up in strange places while the long parts in the back were still obviously tangled from their excursions. Despite her obvious fatigue, however, she managed a quirk of her lips and nodded, pulling the door back for him and letting him inside. 

 

“Lance?”

 

His gaze was drawn to the bed, a mirror image of his own with the exception of the silver comforter, where Allura was nestled under the covers. Her face was turned to him and he watched her blink a few times before her eyes settled on him and she managed a smile.

 

“Hey you,” he murmured as he crossed over to her and took a seat on the edge of the bed where he assumed Katie had been laying as it was warm to the touch, “how are you feeling?”

 

“Better,” she said on a sigh, slowly raising herself into a seated position and letting her back lean against the headboard, “I’m just happy to have my vision back.”

 

Lance’s shoulders slumped a little in relief, “I am seriously happy to hear that; we’ve been worried about you.”

 

Though the ashen hue of her cheeks had remained, she certainly seemed more lively than she had the night before and it did Lance’s heart good to see it. 

 

“You shouldn’t worry about me, I’m fae, remember? Besides,” Allura’s gaze turned to where Katie was leaned against the post near her feet and then softened considerably, “Katie hasn’t let me out of her sight.”

 

“Someone has to look out for you,” Pidge shrugged a shoulder, turning her face away though it wasn’t fast enough to keep Lance from noticing the pinkening of her cheeks, “you can’t take care of yourself all the time.”

 

“And who’s going to take care of you then,” Allura asked with a raised brow, reminding Lance of when he’d asked Keith that exact question.

 

“I’m tougher than I look.”

 

“I know that,” Allura’s voice quieted, “but you still need your own rest.”

 

“Why don’t you get some sleep and let me look after her for a while,” Lance offered on a whim, “I won’t let anything happen to her. Besides, it’ll probably do her some good to know that you’re taking care of yourself.”

 

“But-”

 

“No buts,” Allura shook her head as she pulled back the covers and straightened the sage nightgown, “I need to move around some and you need to sleep. Won’t you do it for me? Please?”

 

Pidge stood strong for a moment, arms crossed over her chest, before she hung her head and sighed deeply, “on the condition that you take a break if you feel like you might keel over, I’ll let Lance take up guard duty.”

 

“I’ll be extra careful,” Allura chuckled, standing and carefully padding over to pass Pidge, pressing a kiss to her cheek before walking by, “promise.”

 

“Keep an eye on her Lance,” Pidge warned even as she yawned, taking a seat in the warm place that Allura had vacated, “make sure you bring her back if she looks like she’s getting sick.”

 

“I will. Sleep well.”

 

Lance put his arm out to hold Allura steady as she wobbled on her way to the door, watching carefully as she right herself. Quietly, he closed the door behind them. 

 

“Thank you for the help, I fear she might have passed out trying to make sure I didn’t injure myself,” Allura muttered thoughtfully as she took the arm he held out to her.

 

“She cares about you; she was worried,” Lance shrugged, patting her hand, “you can’t really blame her. You’ve been through hell.”

 

“No more than any of you, especially you,” she tilted her face up to look at him, pausing and forcing him to pause with her, “are  _ you _ alright, Lance?”

 

Touched that she would bother to focus on him after all she had been through herself, he squeezed the hand she laid on his forearm, “I’m fine.”

 

The concerned expression turned a hint devious then, “that’s wonderful, so does that mean that I can ask what it was like to spend the night with a Cat Sith?”

 

Like a fish out of water, Lance’s mouth opened and closed several times, his mind completely blanked by the sudden demeanor change. Amused, Allura chuckled and patted his arm, shaking her head, “relax, I’m just joking. I am glad to see the that you two seem to have addressed the… tension.”

 

Blinking a few times, Lance peered down at her, “is this like… a thing that people knew about?”

 

The sheer magnitude of the ‘oh, honey,’ expression on her face answered his question entirely without words. 

 

“Ugh,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “that’s not embarrassing as all hell or anything. Isn’t this a forbidden kinda thing? You don't seem very incensed by it. I expected more-”

 

He did his best impression of a tv drama mother clutching her pearls, mouth agape. Allura laughed so hard that her body swayed and Lance had to cut his dramatization short to keep her from falling. She snorted as she leaned against him for stability, wiping at her eyes.

 

“While it would certainly be frowned upon normally, you’re both male so it’s hardly something that would worry anyone. If you can’t bring hybrid children into the world then as much as some, even most, fae would be opposed to the idea, there is no issue with the two of you being together. Honestly, anything that gives Keith something to smile about it something we can all be on board with.”

 

“Well then, I hope I can make him smile.”

 

“Love, you’ve been doing that for a while now,” she chuckled, urging them forward again.

 

There was nothing quite as freeing, as heartwarming, as the thought that these people who he had come to think of as friends would be supportive of his affection for one of their own. That thought stayed burrowed firmly in the back of his mind as the pair of them walked together.


	30. Memories

 

Lance broke only from Allura’s side to push open the door that led into the library, smiling at the way her eyes seemed to light at the sight of it. 

 

“I didn’t get to see it when we arrived,” she murmured softly, allowing Lance to lead her further in as he took his place beside her and retook her arm, “it’s beautiful.”

 

“Nothing like the one Shiro had,” Lance noted as he looked over the colorful leather spines of the tomes lining the shelves, a pang of guilt creeping over him as he thought about what they’d lost and what he’d cost them.

 

Allura put her hand lightly on his arm, her smile wistful and small, “you mean the one he can rebuild?”

 

“I’m supposed to be comforting you,” Lance chuckled, “how are you over here making me feel better?”

 

“That’s what friends do,” she returned easily, “and I hate to see you look upset.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

They walked slowly by the shelves, Lance pausing every so often to let Allura squint at the dusty spines as they passed them. There were moments when her steps would falter, her eyes narrowing as she tried to blink her vision clear a few times before her footing became surer. Lance kept a tight grip on her as they continued.

 

“It is a shame that we don’t have time to teach you our written languages,” she sighed, trailing her fingertip over the gilded markings over a particularly thick tome, “you would so enjoy our stories.”

 

“I’d love to read them one day,” he expressed honestly, imagining what wonders came of the world he’d never seen.

 

“Maybe you’ll get the chance.”

 

He could hear her weariness and it broke his heart to see her smile fracture as she dropped her gaze away from the books and the trail she’d been drawing through the dust. Lance led her over to one of the maroon, high-backed sofas that sat towards the corner of the library, holding to her until she was comfortably seated. Taking the space beside her, he turned his body towards her. 

 

All at once she looked so tired again, as though her sadness had drained what little energy she had found. Allura pulled her legs up onto the couch, the long train of the sage gown covering her like a blanket as she tucked it over her feet. She raised her head to look around the library, at the colorful backings and the second level balcony, but there was no more wistful awe; Lance could only see sorrow.

 

“Allura, are you okay?”

 

“I’m… I’m fine, Lance.”

 

Her voice was monotone. It was as if she spoke on autopilot while she was busy retreating from herself.

 

“If you’re going to lie right to my face, could you maybe make it at least a little more convincing,” he joked lamely, craning his head a little to try to catch her gaze.

 

She sighed deeply, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “I feel… weak. Weak in body and spirit. I fear how slowly I’m recovering. My vision returned a few hours ago but still I blink in and out of darkness. I worry I may have done too much even… Even as I did too little.”

 

Her voice broke then and Lance’s heart lurched at the sound of her half sob as she reached up to cover her mouth, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes no matter how tightly she squeezed them closed.

 

“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped, wiping furiously at her tears, “this is unbecoming of me. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

 

Lance reached for her hand and pulled it away from where she was scrubbing at her cheek, wrapping both of his own around it as he scooted closer. He didn’t know what comfort he could offer her, but he could offer her an ear and he could offer her a friend.

 

“Don’t apologize to me Allura, you’ve been through the wringer and then some. You might feel better if you let it out. You can talk to me, it’s only me, and if you need to cry, then cry.”

 

Her small chuckle was watery and she swallowed thickly, allowing her tears to fall freely.

 

“I am sorry, though. We need to be offering you strength, not shows of our own weakness.”

 

Lance squeezed her hand between his, shaking his head, “seeing it reminds me of why I’m fighting with you. I can see how important this is to you and I can see that I’m not the only one who feels beaten half to death. That’s… weirdly comforting.”

 

Allura sniffled, “you are too kind, Lance.”

 

“Nah, I’m just some bumbling half fae trying not to fail at saving people. No pressure, right?”

 

He felt a fleeting sense of victory when she smiled but it fell away as quickly as it had appeared. Allura looked away, her gaze falling to where her other hand sat on her lap.

 

“I had to leave him there, Lance,” she whispered, “if Thace hadn’t stopped me, I would have probably killed myself trying to hurt them for what they did to him. It’s impossible to sit here and feel anything but sadness and disquiet in the pit of my soul at having to leave him there. He should be here with us.”

 

“Nobody can fault you for that, we know he’s important to you.”

 

“He… He’s like a second father to me. After my father died, he was all I had.”

 

“We can still get him back, Allura.”

 

“He can’t be our priority, Lance,” she shook her head, “and it’s possible that by the time we try to get to him, he’ll be gone. We cannot risk going back for him, not when there is so much at stake. He wouldn’t want us to come for him and risk losing us. Don’t forget that our lives are bound in blood, Lance. If you, the last of your kind, were to die, I would follow with you. You and I both have important parts to play in the present and future. If we were different, I would go after him in a heartbeat. Thace said he would retrieve him but… I don't know that it would be in time.”

 

He didn’t know what he could say to ease her pain but he knew that she was right. He, too, wished that he could do something for Coran but he knew that it was too dangerous. They had a mission and, as much pain as they felt for it, they couldn’t deviate.

 

“I feel a little cheated, I never really got to know him. Would you tell me about him?”

 

He watched her eyes widen in surprise before she showed a hint of a smile. He released her hand and she turned towards him, leaning against the musty velvet of the sofa back. Her voice was soft, sweetened by the memories that fell like a veil over her vision.

 

“He is a kind, caring, man. He’d sooner flay himself than harm another. I always envied his selflessness; I wished that I could focus myself on others like my station demands but it… is difficult at times.”

 

“I imagine being a princess isn’t supposed to be easy.”

 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it,” she sighed, “one never chooses royalty. Sometimes you wonder why it had to be you.”

 

Lance smiled, “I can relate to that.”

 

“I thought you might,” she chuckled, “but he always made me feel less burdened, making it as easy as he could. My father was a great man but his duty was to his people and he had to push me early on to succeed. He did his best not to push too hard but circumstances often had to dictate the pace at which I learned. Coran softened him, he was the best friend both of us needed.”

 

Lance leaned against the backing himself, snuggling up to the musty fabric himself, “he was important to both of you.”

 

Allura nodded, “without a doubt. He was my father’s closest friend and, eventually, his lover. I think that’s why it was so easy for me to see him as my second father.”

 

“Oh, I didn’t know that. So, a little off topic, but that’s not… frowned upon or anything over there?”

 

Allura laughed and Lance was finally set at ease as the last of her tears was wiped away and light seemed to radiate within her once more.

 

“That depends on which part you mean. My father falling in love with his second? That was absolutely frowned upon. The fact that he was male was of no consequence. In the high fae circles and in most of the tribal unions, no one cares about the gender of your mate.”

 

Lance felt himself loose a sigh of relief and Allura winked as she caught it, “I promise you, you won’t receive any hassle over your choice of fae being male, Lance.”

 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to mentally swat away the warmth he felt at knowing his affection for Keith wouldn’t be met with disdain, “so anyway, Coran and your dad were together and raised you into a bright young princess. What about your mother?”

 

She chuckled at his blush but nodded, “yes, that’s right. My mother was a childhood friend of my fathers and theirs was a business arrangement. She gave the gift of life to the high council and, as such, she was compensated with whatever she desired.”

 

“Can I ask what it was that she desired?”

 

“To hear my father tell it, all she wanted was to be part of next phase of history. She had always been one of my father’s most loyal supporters and after she gave birth to me, she became part of a revered party of fae. While my father is celebrated, as he should be, for being the King, my mother was celebrated for bearing the life that would continue his reign. Women are held in higher regard in respects to royal heirs as it is their body that bears the scars and aches of carrying the child. My father will always be an important part of Elphame’s history but, because of what she gave, so will my mother.”

 

“I like that,” Lance thought aloud, musing over her words, “I mean, I like that she’s not written out of it just because she wasn’t Queen or whatever, you know? Because you’re important, so is she. I like that.”

 

“I do too,” Allura smiled, “and she was a kind woman. Coran brought me to her routinely to spend time together. It wasn’t something the council much cared for since I had duties to attend to, but it was important to me. Like you said, just because she wasn’t the Queen didn’t mean she wasn’t important. She was still my mother.”

 

“Coran was always looking out for you.”

 

“Always. Whenever my father couldn’t be with me, Coran always was. I’ll never forget how proud he looked when I was invited to participate in a Sylvan boughing ceremony. His mustache was practically damp with tears,” she laughed, shaking her head, “it was so endearing.”

 

“What’s a sylvan boughing ceremony? Oh, sorry, I don't mean to get us off track it’s just… the more you tell me about all of this, the more I realize that I know nothing about where you’re all from. I have my writing, apparently, but you’ll have to understand if coming to terms with that whole deal isn’t something I’m fond of. I’d rather hear about it from you guys.”

 

Allura straightened and crossed her legs, leaning forward, “no, that’s okay! I’m actually really happy that you’re so interested. It’s my hope that if we can open the way back, we can show it to you. You would so enjoy Elphame and it would be a treasure to guide you through it.”

 

“I would love that,” he expressed honestly, honored, “truly.”

 

She beamed and continued, “a sylvan boughing ceremony is a special custom where the leader of a sylvan tribe binds their boughs with those of another tribe. When the boughs are bound, they flower, symbolizing how they are both of one heart and one family. It’s an ancient tradition, one that shows how all sylvan carry the lifeblood of the first of their kind. It’s a very touching thing to behold and an exceedingly rare honor for a non sylvan to participate.”

 

“Okay, I’m following along, but how could that work if you’re not sylvan? I mean, I have a vague idea of what that means from my own writing… er.. history recordings. You couldn’t flower since you don’t have boughs.”

 

“That’s what I thought! Coran told me to just do as I was bid and, if it was meant to be, things would fall into place. Oh, Lance, I was terrified! These sylvans were very important diplomatically and I was terrified of insulting them.”

 

“Who wouldn’t be?”

 

“Right? Uh-”

 

Allura’s brows knit and she closed her eyes, taking in a few deep breaths before she opened them again, blinking several times.”

 

“You okay?”

 

“My vision still comes and goes, I’m getting used to it. I’m sorry. Anyway, I’m at the ceremony and Coran is standing at the side of this massive stage for support. The sylvan Archus, the young heir to the Trispire Sylvan tribe, and I are standing together in front of this large group of mingled fae. Parts of the high council are there, parts of the sylvan matriarchy are there, and I was so scared.”

 

Lance leaned in, his elbows on his knees as he brought them up and crossed them on the couch, invested in her story.

 

“But you did it, right?”

 

“As if I had a choice,” she rolled her eyes, “but yes, I did. The Archus and I braided her boughs with my hair. Oh, Lance, it was so beautiful. Traive had such lovely boughs, they wept like golden willows. We finished braiding and she could see how frightened I was. She told me not to worry, just to smile at them. I did as she instructed and her boughs began to color as these incredible flowers rose between the windings of our braid. They looked like green, blue, and pink stained glass as they opened all along our hair.”

 

“But how?”

 

Allura grinned, “of course I couldn’t create flowers like a sylvan, but I was never supposed to. Our shared vision for unity allowed Traive to create them on her own and allow for the illusion. She told me afterward that if I hadn’t been willing and open to compromise or hadn’t been open to a future alongside the sylvans, she wouldn’t have been able to manage it. So it didn’t matter that I couldn’t create them on my own, I inspired their growth with faith.”

 

Her smile widened as she laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners as the memory played, “oh, Coran was so proud of me. He picked me up and spun me around and I felt so happy. When we told my father he did the same thing. I couldn’t have done it without Coran, though. He knew that if I believed in our future, that I could do it. He’s always been pushing me to believe in the best future for the fae.”

 

“I’m sure he’s always proud of you. I’m proud of you too. We’ve been through so much and you still keep pushing forward even when things keep falling apart. I really respect and admire that about you,” Lance admitted honestly, “you all make me want to be better.”

 

Allura leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, “we are blessed to have met you, Lance, and I’m glad, more than ever, that it was you who was destined to fight this battle with us. I am honored to have a friend like you.”

 

He felt a hot sting as he blinked back tears of his own, touched by her words. 

 

“I feel the same way,” he told her as she pulled away, “and don’t worry, we’ll do our best to try to get Coran out of there. I’ll help Thace anyway that I can, maybe we can figure something out together.”

 

“Thank you. Your faith gives me faith.”

 

“What are friends for? Now, I actually think we should get you back to your room. I know you haven’t been out long but I don't like the idea of you being out and about when your vision keeps fading.”

 

Allura pouted and Lance had to bite his lip against a laugh, imagining that she’d used that face as a small princess to get her way with her father.

 

“I don’t want to wake Katie, she’s been so vigilant over me that she’s hardly gotten any rest.”

 

“Then we’ll just have you slide in bed with her, what’s the problem? We won’t mention your vision, I’m sure she knows that you can’t be all healed up yet.”

 

Allura opened her mouth to speak but Lance shook his head, a crooked grin on his lips.

 

“Don’t even bother, Allura, I already know she was laying with you before she opened the door. The bed was warm at the side. I’m sure a princess with a wealth of knowledge under her belt can find a way to compromise so that you can both get some rest without one of you keeping watch over the other.”

 

Narrowing her eyes, Allura’s lips pursed, “this is payback for that remark I made about sleeping with Keith.”

 

“Was there ever any doubt?”

 

“You are an evil little halfling.”

 

“Oh, flattery will get you everywhere,” he smirked, blowing a kiss to her.

 

She held a mock stern expression for about half a second before she burst into laughter, “you are a disaster and I love it. Come on, then, let’s get back so I can rest.”

 

Like a gentleman, he unfolded himself and stretched before walking over to hold out a hand, helping her up from her seat and allowing her to steady herself. She took his arm lightly and the pair of them began towards the doors to the bedchambers.

 

“Oh, before we leave, can I ask what that other half of the room is?”

 

Allura looked to her left to the glance at the gem inlaid tables and colorful bottles lining the shelves on two sides of the room.

 

“I believe it’s an alchemical lab. The tables there are for rune etching, like you did in the glen. The chisels and metals here will probably be easier to use than random debris you find in a forest. It might be worth your while to explore it with Thace when you have the ability. There’s a great deal in this place that I suspect will be very useful to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I have returned with GK! You'll probably only get 2 more chapters before it goes on another short hiatus (my classes start back and I'm signed up for a big bang event in another fandom with a promised minimum of 25k) but don't worry, I have no intention of abandoning this story. While it's on its short hiatus, feel free to check out my Shklance soulmate fic [From The Ashes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15022502/chapters/34824725) which will continue updating during this time since I have a great deal of it already written. Lance and the gang will be back by the end of October at the very least. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and sticking with me, all of my love and warmest wishes to you and yours!
> 
> ### ☽ MP ☾


	31. Caverns and Concerns

 

“Let me know when you’re ready, Thace,” Keith said as he stretched, water dripping from his arms to splatter against his damp mane as he lifted them over his head.

 

After Lance had dressed and departed, Keith had been left in the company of Thace and Matt. Matt had kept to himself, feeling the tension emanating from Thace’s rigid form as he ignored the pair of them to bathe. More than ever, it was apparent how much Lance’s presence did to ease an awkward situation. Regardless of the quiet, however, Keith was determined to enjoy the first soak he’d had in a while that hadn’t been in a chilly glen.

 

“I will,” Thace replied curtly as he massaged his calves, not bothering to look over at him.

 

Matt shot a glance over Thace and Keith just shrugged at the question that he read there. He didn’t expect that everyone would be happy to learn that he’d slept with Lance but he couldn’t find it within him to care. His affections had been present before now and he’d been perfectly able to continue protecting him; there shouldn’t be any difference just because he’d had him in his bed.

 

Keith reclined against the steps, body submerged up to his collar. The heat of the water soothed his aching muscles and the smell of the tonic he’d rubbed through his hair relaxed him. The scent of rose and honey reminded him of the shampoo in Lance’s apartment and he had to stifle his smile at the memory of their time together there. They had both been aching for one another but determined not to give in.

 

Memories of their night together floated before his eyes and his chest grew heated as he heard Lance’s voice in his ear, ‘I want to be yours.’ He didn’t know that his heart had ever felt so full or that he’d ever felt so enamoured. Lance made him feel invincible, his affection like a suit of armor. The only downside to their admissions to one another was how stupid he felt missing him when he’d only been gone for ten minutes. He was a complete mess over him but he’d never felt more content.

 

Keith laid quietly against the steps, his eyes closed as he soaked. Matt left to go check on Shiro after a while, leaving Keith alone with Thace, the tension between them as thick as the stone of the sanctuary. He wasn’t going to press; if Thace had something to say, he’d say it when he was ready. Keith was still unsure of how to feel about him. On the one hand, he’d saved Allura and the rest of them by bringing them to Kinnoull Hall. On the other, his secrecy from the group and only recent introduction left a lot to be desired. He had to give him the benefit of the doubt but he didn’t feel right about it.

 

“Keith.”

 

Keith opened his eyes, glancing to his right where Thace was moving to stand, “yes?”

 

“Let’s get down to the caverns.”

 

“To think I spent all this time bathing just to smell like fish,” he murmured as he pushed off the steps and slicked his hair back from his face, reaching for a towel to dry himself. 

 

Thace responded with a dull hum of acknowledgement but said nothing else as he dried and dressed, the ruffled linen looking hideously out of place on his frame. Keith donned his own outdated clothing, running a hand along the fabric. There had been a time when he would have looked positively stylish in the outfit, and had in similar ones, but that had been a long time ago. Draping his towel over his head, he roughly rubbed at his hair while he followed Thace to door.

 

“So, how are we getting down to these caverns?”

 

Thace held the door for him and then led him through the corridors back to the first room they’d seen when they’d entered the hall- the kitchen. 

 

“If I remember correctly,” he muttered as he felt along the wall between the counters on the Northern and Eastern walls, “there should be a spot around here some-”

 

No sooner than he’d spoken, Thace’s hand disappeared within the wall. 

 

“Great,” Keith rolled his eyes, “because this place desperately needed some hidden walkways.”

 

“If it makes you feel any better, the interior designer is probably long dead.”

 

Keith just stared as he walked through the wall, shaking his head, “yeah, because death normally makes me feel right peachy.”

 

Following him through the cut out in the counter and the illusion, Keith found even less to feel peachy about. The walls around them were tight and there was only a small ledge before the staircase begun downward, spiraling beneath them to unknown depths.

 

“Doesn’t seem dangerous or anything,” Keith muttered, as he followed Thace carefully down the stairs in the dimly lighting, his hands tight on both walls as he cautiously descended.

 

“Years without upkeep didn’t do this place any favors,” Thace agreed, “be careful, Keith.”

 

“How far down do you think this goes?”

 

“With or without the help of the decanters?”

 

“Without.”

 

“Too deep to estimate. Remember how high we were when we entered at the folly? We’ll be just above the water level of the river when we hit the bottom.”

 

“So, I should just be praying that we have enough energy in the decanters to keep us from having to scale a staircase up about seven hundred feet? Awesome.”

 

“Do you whine often or is today special?”

 

“You bring out the best in me.”

 

“Have I done something to offend you?”

 

“No, but I’m not blind. I’m waiting for you to say what has your breeches in a bunch. If you plan on being passive aggressive the rest of the day, you can get used to my complaining.”

 

Thace didn’t respond but Keith could practically feel the waves of irritation pouring off of him as they descended the stone stairs deeper into the belly of the hill. In the narrow space of the staircase, the sounds of their breaths and footsteps echoed around them, mingling with the sound of moving water as they reached the final step. Keith let out a long breath of relief when his feet hit the floor of the cavern and the tight walls of the corridor opened, lending the scent of fresh water to the otherwise dank air of the space.

 

From the base of the staircase, twenty feet lay between them and the gentle movement of the Tay as it curved in, the water bending through a curved canal in the shape of a horse shoe and then disappearing into a carved archway that led into the depths of the underground cave system around them. The light from the two decanters embedded in the ceiling some fifteen feet high was dim, so much so that Keith doubted it would be much use to anyone without the benefit of feline vision. Along with the two lit decanters in the ceiling, several empty decanters lined the sides of the cavern walls on either side of them as well as the one across from them on the other side of the river’s offshoot. 

 

“This seems a little too good to be true given our situation,” Keith mused, crossing his arms as he looked from the staircase to the water.

 

“How did you think the original inhabitants would eat if they couldn’t leave? The river is bountiful, naturally they found a way to tap into it.”

 

“Naturally,” Keith responded flatly, “should we fill the empty decanters?”

 

Thace turned to glance back at him from where he stood by the water’s edge, “are you in any shape to contribute?”

 

“Probably not if I do it alone.”

 

After shifting back from hours in his feline form the night before, he had yet to feel back to proper health. 

 

Thace looked back to the decanter that sat embedded in the stone across the water from him and nodded, “I agree. We’ll each put a small amount in and hope that it works long enough for us to succeed.”

 

Keith followed Thace to the right wall of the cavern, his eyes falling to the dormant decanter embedded in the stone beside where a row of wicker baskets hung. Keith placed his hand on top of the disc at the pinnacle of the decanter, inhaling deeply before channeling his focus on the crystal. There was a pull at his limbs as the energy within his body migrated, converging at the palm he sat atop the device. Carefully, he allowed several silver tendrils to be pulled through his skin, pulling away before he gave too much. Thace followed his example, allowing the device to pull the rest of what it needed from his body.

 

As the tendrils danced together and merged to fill the crystal, a familiar trill emanated from the decanter and a beam of light shot between the sister crystals across the cavern and then into the water. Curious, Keith and Thace both moved to the water’s edge to see that three more decanters sat beneath the surface, gleaming brilliantly with the light they’d been imbued with. At once the water began to glow, so clear that Keith was able to watch as several large fish swam lazily through the curved channel. 

 

“Remarkable,” Thace murmured to himself, squatting at the edge to peer closely at the decanters, “can you see those threads?”

 

Keith lowered himself beside him, squinting against the sudden bright lighting as he tried to follow Thace’s line of sight. Sure enough, a complex network of spiderweb-thin threads sat against the bottom of the channel, glinting slightly with the motion of the water as it caught the light of the crystal decanters. Some twelve feet deep, they covered the bottom of the offshoot and crawled up to loop around the base of the decanters on the channel walls.

 

At once, Keith was thankful. While fishing was hardly difficult, it would never be his favorite pastime; he was more content to watch than disturb. He recognized the webbing system as a latent net, one of the easier yet more primitive models of quick-fishing that he’d used a time or two in his youth. 

 

“Honestly, not to sound like a broken record, but it seems too good to be true to get this lucky after all the shit we’ve been through,” Keith said again, shaking his head, “I thought for sure we’d be down here with rods or, gods forbid, going the old fashioned way and fishing with claws.”

 

Thace gave a small, amused chuckled as he stood, “you and I both, and I confess that I’ve been less than keen on both ideas. Though, to be honest, I’ve been more concerned with how the cavern might work against us.”

 

Keith had thought of that initially as well. 

 

“You mean how having an open water source is a potential recipe for disaster? Yeah. I don't like the idea of being able to be found by amphibious scouts. If they managed to discover the location, what would stop them from swimming through here, going up the stairs, and waltzing right into the sanctuary?”

 

Even as he spoke, images conjured within his mind sent alarm bells through his body. He’d known that the sanctuary couldn’t be impenetrable, but seeing how easily they could be infiltrated had him immediately on edge. They could get to Lance with minimal effort if only they had the information they needed, and that didn’t sit well with Keith.

 

“I doubt that it would be that easy,” Thace mused, “but we’re in agreement. I can’t imagine that the designer would have left it open, however. We’ll need to explore it further. After we finish gathering here, we’ll collaborate with Katie and Matt and see if they can find any protocols in place for securing the entrance and exit of this offshoot.”

 

“Good idea,” Keith praised him honestly, “between the two of them, they’re best equipped to find anything.”

 

“Agreed. Now, let’s get this over with.”

 

Coordinating, Thace moved to the left side of the bend while Keith moved to the right. There was a looped hold that had been wrapped around the base of the decanters, the thread so thin that it would have easily been overlooked had they not known to search for them. Because they had been tied in with the decanters, there was no heft to the net as Keith and Thace pulled on the thin strands, the netting rising from the bottom and pulling in at the sides to trap the unsuspecting fish swimming above it. As the strands drew in, the net rose above the water and pinched into a trough shape.

 

“I’ll grab some baskets,” Keith offered after they tied off the ends of the strands around the decanters, taking hold of several of the wicker containers and pulling them from their hangers.

 

The pair worked quietly, pulling the net close to the mouth of the shore before reaching in for the fish. They gutted and cleaned them before placing them in the baskets, minutes passing with only the sounds of their claws being used as knives. Keith was aware that Thace was slowing after a few fish, his eyes moving from his task to glance at Keith.

 

“Just say it already, you’re giving me a headache,” Keith muttered as he lay another fish in the basket at his side.

 

Thace’s hands stilled momentarily but he finished with the fish before he stuck his hands into the water to rinse them, turning his full attention to where Keith was knelt at the edge of the channel. He was hyper aware of the solemn, almost dour, heaviness that sat in his gaze.

 

“It’s not a good idea for you to be so personally entangled with Lance.”

 

And there it was. He’d had the feeling that Thace was concerned with his closeness to Lance, especially after how he’d stiffened when he’d seen the marks that Keith had left on his bared body in the bath. Straightening his shoulders, Keith lifted his chin and met his gaze directly. 

 

“Your opinion is noted. Is that all?”

 

“Keith, listen to me. This isn’t about your relationships in general, whatever they might be. I don’t rightly give a damn who either of you screws. This is about  _ your _ role as his protector.”

 

“So, you think that I can’t protect him because we’ve shared a bed? I assure you, my dick doesn’t stop me from being able to keep him safe.”

 

“Would you shut up and just listen,” Thace’s voice boomed around the cavern and he had to take a few seconds to calm himself before he continued, “you have no idea what Zarkon’s witch is capable of, Keith. I’ve seen it first hand. There’s... “

 

Thace trailed off and his eyes fell momentarily as he searched for the words to continue.

 

“There’s something we need to talk about. My role here is a dual one. I am here to help Lance, to guide him and assist him, but I am also here to protect him. I have been watching over that young man for years, Keith, but there’s a reason I’ve done it from a distance and through Hunk. You accused me of being there at the reservoir but not helping him and I told you that it was too dangerous for me to help. I told you a half truth. I was there and it was too dangerous for me to help, but I didn’t explain why properly.”

 

“Out with it, then, because I’m getting tired of this shit,” Keith grumbled, on edge as Thace spoke.

 

Thace sighed, “that witch is able to get inside your head, manipulate and destroy you from the inside out. She’s been within my head and I’ve felt my limbs become subject to her will even as I fought it. I wasn’t there when Lance’s parents needed me most because I was their biggest threat. I could have killed them, Keith, because I had no control over my own body. I’m here to protect Lance from them just as much as I’m here to protect him from you all. She knew that I would distance myself to protect them and that’s when she struck. I’ve seen her manipulate others but it was nothing compared to how she manipulated me. I have a suspicion that the kind of fae determines how strong her hold is. Do not underestimate Zarkon or his witch, Keith, or you’ll see a kind of hell that has haunted my dreams for over two decades.”

 

Keith digested his words and was quiet for several minutes, struck silent by the honest, open, sorrow that he read on Thace’s face. 

 

“I would never hurt Lance,” he said finally, standing and grabbing the baskets.

 

Melancholic and almost pitying, Thace’s smile was humorless.

 

“You’d never want to hurt him,” Thace amended softly, “but you don’t know that you’ll have a choice. If you care about him, truly care about him, you’ll keep a safe but vigilant distance.”

 

Keith said nothing, allowing silence to reign as Thace, too, stood and took hold of his baskets. They ascended the staircase and entered the kitchen, sitting the cleaned fish on the counter in their baskets. Thace made mention of checking on Hunk, leaving Keith standing at the kitchen counter, ruminating on what he’d been told. 

 

He couldn’t imagine ever harming Lance, he’d rather gnaw off his own arm, but neither could he discount the very real pain he’d seen as Thace had spoken. In the end, however, he knew he wouldn’t change his mind. He was Lance’s protector and, even if that meant his own death, he  _ would _ protect him. They’d both found something precious, something beautiful, in the care of one another and he wouldn’t take away from the feelings that they shared. No, he would remain at Lance’s side and he would strike down all those who sought to harm him. 

 

* * *

  
  


“Is he broken enough yet?”

 

Coran might have cursed them if he had any energy. Through his one good eye he could see Zarkon standing before him, gaze on his mangled, battered, body. He could no longer feel his arms as he hung suspended from rusted fetters but he could feel his legs, the broken bones trying vainly to heal. No matter how hard his body tried to heal itself, it was no match for the constant torture it was forced to endure at the hands of the witch standing at Zarkon’s side. They always spoke in front of him, seeking to frighten him.

 

“Not yet,” she grumbled, her fingernails digging into her arms as she curled her hands, “the process won’t take if he still has fight.”

 

“You disappoint me,” Zarkon growled, “tell me, at least, that you’ve learned something.”

 

From beneath the hooded cowl, Coran could see her frown shift into a devious smile. He felt a surge of fear, then, as he remembered the feel of her crawling through his mind, scratching at his perilously thin mental blockades. At the sound of her short bark of laughter, the arachnid children in the shadows clamored, their sharp legs clacking against the stone as they chirped and laughed with her.

 

“The boy is protected by cat siths and druids,” the witch informed him, her smile only widening.

 

Zarkon’s lip twitched the smallest bit upwards, “that is most fortunate.”

 

“Yes, Sire,” Haggar agreed, directing that smile at Coran, “it is.”


End file.
